"And when she goes down-stairs, it's like this." She gathered up her gown
and sidled down affectedly over the remaining steps.

"That's it," said Jane, joining her in the hall below.

Mrs. Bates opened the front door herself. "You can take the choo-choo
cars at Sixteenth, you know, and get off at Van Buren. Oh, dear; excuse
my baby-talk; our little Reginald--two months old, you know. I'll have
Lottie home for that lunch of ours."

"Don't apologize," said Jane. "I often use the same expression myself."

"Why, is there a baby at your house!"

"Well," said Jane, rather lamely, "Alice has got a little girl three
years old."

"So David Marshall is a grandfather? But what is there extraordinary in
that?--I'm one myself." She stood in the big porch looking down the
street--at nothing." Well, now I _am_ going to," she said, half to
herself. "_That_ settles it!"

She accompanied Jane half-way down the steps, bareheaded as she was, and
in her morning-gown. A society reporter who happened to be passing
originated the rumor that she had gone insane.

"Good-luck, my child. Use my name everywhere. Take all that anybody
offers. Good-by! Good-by!"

Jane retraced her steps to kiss her. She had not kissed her own mother