"Oh! she'd be offended," exclaimed Psyche. "I'm not so sure of that," said her brother, "not if you suggest it in the right way--put it on the ground that you'll be quite helpless without her, and that she'd oblige you world without end and all that. The more I see of people here the more I think they're quite reasonable in little matters like that. They look at them in the right light. Just lead up to it delicately with Mrs. Drelmer and see. Then if she's willing to go with you, your summer will be provided for; except that we shall both have to look in upon Mrs. Juzzlebraggin here now and then to see that she doesn't overplay the game and get sick herself, and make sure that they don't get her vaccination mark away from her. And, ma, you'll have to come off on the yacht once or twice, just to give it tone." It appeared that Percival had been right in supposing that Mrs. Drelmer might be led to regard Psyche's proposal in a light entirely rational. She was reluctant, at first, it is true. "It's awfully dear of you to ask me, child, but really, I'm afraid it will be quite impossible. Oh!--for reasons which you, of course, with your endless bank-account, cannot at all comprehend. You see we old New York families have a secure position _here_ by right of birth; and even when we are forced to practice little economies in dress and household management it doesn't count against us--so long as we _stay_ here. Now, Newport is different. One cannot economise gracefully there--not even one of _us_. There are quiet and very decent places for those of us that must. But at Newport one must not fall behind in display. A sense of loyalty to the others, a _noblesse oblige_, compels one to be as lavish as those flamboyant outsiders who go there. One doesn't want them to report, you know, that such and such families of our smart set are falling behind for lack of means. So, while we of the real stock are chummy enough here, where there is only _us_ in a position to observe ourselves, there is a sort of tacit agreement that only those shall go to Newport who are able to keep up the pace. One need not, for one season or so, be a cottager; but, for example, in the matter of dress, one must be sinfully lavish. Really, child, I could spend three months in the Engadine for the price of one decent month at Newport; the parasols, gloves, fans, shoes, 'frillies'--enough to stock the Rue de la Paix, to say nothing of gowns--but why do I run on? Here am I with a few little simple summer things, fit enough indeed for the quiet place we shall reach for July and August, but ab-so-lute-ly impossible for Newport--so say no more about it, dear. You're a sweet--but it's madness to think of it."