“Not until you’ve heard me out.  You’ve given your nieces every advantage in your power save one, and the neglect of that one thing renders futile all else you have accomplished.”

Now, indeed, her listener seemed perplexed.  He passed a hand over his shiny bald head as if to stimulate thought and exorcise bewilderment.

“What is it, then?  What have I neglected?” was his mild enquiry.

“To give those girls their proper standing in society.”

He started; smiled; then looked grave.

“You’re talking foolishly,” he said.  “Why, confound it, Martha, they’re as good girls as ever lived!  They’re highly respected, and—­” “Sir, I refer to Fashionable Society.”  The capitals indicate the impressive manner in which Mrs. Merrick pronounced those words.

“I guess money makes folks fashionable; don’t it, Martha?”

“No, indeed.  How ignorant you are, John.  Can you not understand that there is a cultured, aristocratic and exclusive Society in New York that millions will not enable one to gain entree to?”

“Oh, is there?  Then I’m helpless.”

“You are not, sir.”

“Eh?  I thought you said—­”

“Listen, John; and for heaven’s sake try for once to be receptive.  I am speaking not only for the welfare of my daughter Louise but for Beth and Patricia.  Your nieces are charming girls, all three.  With the advantages you have given them they may well become social celebrities.”

“H-m-m.  Would they be happier so?”

“Of course.  Every true woman longs for social distinction, especially if it seems difficult to acquire.  Nothing is dearer to a girl’s heart than to win acceptance by the right social set.  And New York society is the most exclusive in America.”

“I’m afraid it will continue to exclude our girls, Martha.”

“Not if you do your duty, John.”

“That reminds me.  What is your idea of my duty, Martha?  You’ve been talking in riddles, so far,” he protested, shifting uneasily in his chair.

“Let me explain more concisely, then.  Your millions, John Merrick, have made you really famous, even in this wealthy metropolis.  In the city and at your club you must meet with men who have the entree to the most desirable social circles:  men who might be induced to introduce your nieces to their families, whose endorsement would effect their proper presentation.”

“Nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense at all.”

“Then blamed if I know what you’re driving at.”

“You’re very obtuse.”

“I won’t agree to that till I know what ‘obtuse’ means.  See here, Martha; you say this social position, that the girls are so crazy for—­but they’ve never said anything to me about it—­can’t be bought.  In the next breath you urge me to buy it.  Phoo!  You’re a thoughtless, silly woman, Martha, and let your wild ambitions run away with your common sense.”