Instead of making the brilliant lawyer his friends expected, he had come down at last to be the keeper of the toll-gate on a country turnpike.
Lying on his pillow in the dense shadow, John Jay looked out into the white moonlight, and listened to the old story told all over again.

But this time there was added the history of Jintsey's boy, who seemed to have been born with the ambition hot in his heart to win an education.
He had done it.

There was a quiver of pride in Uncle Billy's voice as he told how the boy had outstripped his young master in the long race; but there was a loyal and tender undercurrent of excuse for the unfortunate heir running through all his talk.
It had taken twenty years of struggle and work for the little black boy to realize his hopes.

He had grown to be a grave man of thirty-three before it was accomplished.

Now he had come home from a Northern college with his diploma and his degree.
"He have fought a good fight," said Uncle Billy in conclusion, finishing as usual with a scriptural quotation.