“Of course!  Of course!” cried the humbled Olivetta.

“I hope you fully realize my dilemma.”

“It is terrible—­terrible!” Olivetta’s tone was slow, and full of awed dismay.  “You must maintain your social position and there is no money!”

“Just so.”

Detailed horrors of the situation began to move in spasmodic procession through Olivetta’s mind.

“And your passage is taken on the Plutonia—­and it has been widely announced that you are leaving for Europe—­and that newspaper is going to print your picture among the social leaders who have sailed—­and, oh, Caroline, all those reporters are going to fill the papers with long articles about your going!”

A new horror, that till then had escaped Mrs. De Peyster’s inventory, a horror out-climaxing any in Olivetta’s tragic list, burst suddenly upon Mrs. De Peyster.  Her face went pale, fell loose.

“Mrs. Allistair!” she barely articulated.

“Mrs. Allistair?” Olivetta repeated blankly.

“Don’t you see—­if I stay at home—­don’t sail—­Mrs. Allistair will use it as capital against me—­and she’ll ride over me to—­”

“Caroline!” gasped the appalled Olivetta.

Mrs. De Peyster stood up, rigid with desperation.

“I simply must sail!” she cried.

“Of course you must!  Can’t you think of some way out of it?  I never knew you unequal to an emergency!”

Mrs. De Peyster, her brow knitted with agitated thought, walked slowly to one of her windows and stood looking down into the pleasant bustle of Washington Square.  Olivetta watched her intently, waiting for the brilliant plan that would be the result of her cousin’s cogitations.

But the minutes passed, Mrs. De Peyster did not move, and Olivetta’s gaze wandered about the large, luxurious sitting-room.  Her mind roamed afar to the desolate realm which she inhabited, and she thought of her own sitting-room, dark and stingily furnished, and rather threadbare, in which she was expecting to spend the summer, save for a few weeks at a respectable, poor-relations’ resort.  She sighed.

“If it wasn’t for your social position,” she said, half to herself, “it really wouldn’t be so bad to spend the summer here.”

Mrs. De Peyster must have heard, for she turned slowly about and gazed at Olivetta—­gazed at her steadily.  And gradually, as she gazed, her whole appearance changed.  The consternation on her face was succeeded by calm resolution.  Poise and dignity returned.

“You have an idea, Caroline?” cried Olivetta, struck by her look.

“Wait!”

Mrs. De Peyster stood silent for yet a few more moments.  Then, completely her dignified and composed self, she stepped toward her bedroom.  Olivetta’s eyes followed her in wondering, worshipful fascination.

Mrs. De Peyster opened the door.

“Matilda!”

The housekeeper instantly appeared.