Mrs. Bates hastened forward, lightfootedly. "Conservatory--_that's_
Moorish," she indicated, casually; "nothing in it but orchids and things.
Come along." Jane followed--dumbly, humbly.

Mrs. Bates paused on the lower step of her great stairway. A huge vase of
Japanese bronze flanked either newel, and a Turkish lantern depended
above her head. The bright green of a dwarf palm peeped over the
balustrade, and a tempered light strained down through the painted window
on the landing-stage.

"There!" she said; "you've seen it all." She stood there in a kind of
impassioned splendor, her jewelled fingers shut tightly and her fists
thrown out and apart so as to show the veins and cords of her wrists.
"_We_ did it, we two--just Granger and I. Nothing but our own hands and
hearts and hopes, and each other. We have fought the fight--a fair field
and no favor--and we have come out ahead. And we shall stay there, too;
keep up with the procession is my motto, and head it if you can. I _do_
head it, and I feel that I'm where I belong. When I can't foot it with
the rest, let me drop by the wayside and the crows have me. But they'll
never get me--never! There's ten more good years in me yet; and if we
were to slip to the bottom to-morrow, we should work back to the top
again before we finished. When I led the grand march at the Charity Ball
I was accused of taking a vainglorious part in a vainglorious show. Well,
who would look better in such a role than I, or who has earned a better
right to play it? There, child! ain't that success? ain't that glory?
ain't that poetry?--H'm," she broke off suddenly, "I'm glad Jimmy wasn't
by to hear that! He's always taking up his poor mother."

"Jimmy? Is he humble-minded--do you mean?"