It is a trying thing to deal with the rich and great.  If you treat them as the rest of the world does, you are a tuft-hunter; if you treat them as the rest of the world pretends to, you are a hypocrite; whereas, if you deal with them truly, it is hard not to seem, even to yourself, a bumptious person.  I remember trying to tell myself on the launch-trip that I was not in the least excited; and then, standing on the platform of the railroad station, saying:  “How can you expect not to be excited, when even the railroad is excited?”

“Will Mr. van Tuiver’s train be on time?” I asked, of the agent.

“‘Specials’ are not often delayed,” he replied, “at least, not Mr. van Tuiver’s.”

The engine and its two cars drew up, and the traveller stepped out upon the platform, followed by his secretary and his valet.  I went forward to meet him.  “Good morning, Mr. van Tuiver.”

I saw at once that he did not remember me.  “Mrs. Abbott,” I prompted.  “I came to meet you.”

“Ah,” he said.  He had never got clear whether I was a sewing-woman, or a tutor, or what, and whenever he erred in such matters, it was on the side of caution.

“Your wife is doing well,” I said, “and the child as well as could be expected.”

“Thank you,” he said.  “Did no one else come?”

“Mrs. Tuis was not able,” I said, diplomatically, and we moved towards the launch.

24.  He did not offer to help me into the vessel, but I, crude Western woman, did not miss the attention.  We seated ourselves in the upholstered leather seats in the stern, and when the “luggage” had been stowed aboard, the little vessel swung away from the pier.  Then I said:  “If you will pardon me, Mr. van Tuiver, I should like to talk with you privately.”

He looked at me for a moment, and then answered, abruptly:  “Yes, madam.”  The secretary rose and went forward.

The whirr of the machinery and the strong breeze made by the boat’s motion, made it certain that no one could hear us, and so I began my attack:  “Mr. van Tuiver, I am a friend of your wife’s.  I came here to help her in this crisis, and I came to-day to meet you because it was necessary for someone to talk to you frankly about the situation.  You will understand, I presume, that Mrs. Tuis is not—­ not very well informed about the matters in question.”

His gaze was fixed intently upon me, but he said not a word.  After waiting, I continued:  “Perhaps you will wonder why your wife’s physicians could not have handled the matter.  The reason is, there is a woman’s side to such questions and often it is difficult for men to understand it.  If Sylvia knew the truth, she could speak for herself; so long as she does not know it, I shall have to take the liberty of speaking for her.”

Again there was a pause.  He did nothing more than watch me, yet I could feel his affronted maleness rising up for battle.  I waited on purpose to compel him to speak.