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Fuller, Henry Blake, 1857-1929

"With the Procession"

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?"
"Humble-minded? One of my boys humble-minded? No, indeed; he's
grammatical, that's all; he prefers 'isn't.' Come up."
Mrs. Bates hurried her guest over the stairway and through several halls
and passages, and introduced her finally into a large and spacious room
done in white and gold. In the glittering electrolier wires mingled with
pipes and bulbs with globes. To one side stood a massive brass bedstead
full panoplied in coverlet and pillow-cases, and the mirror of the
dressing-case reflected a formal row of silver-backed brushes and combs.
"My bedroom," said Mrs. Bates. "How does it strike you?"
"Why," stammered Jane, "It's all very fine, but--"
"Oh yes; I know what they say about it--I've heard them a dozen times.
'It's very big and handsome and all, but not a bit home-like. _I_
shouldn't want to sleep here.' Is that the idea?"
"About," said Jane.
"Sleep here!" echoed Mrs. Bates. "I _don't_ sleep here. I'd as soon think
of sleeping out on the prairie. That bed isn't to _sleep_ in; it's for
the women to lay their hats and cloaks on.


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