"The same. Now mind, sis, and you, ma--you're not to know them again--and mind this--if any one else wants to present you to a Mrs. Wybert--a Mrs. Brench Wybert--don't you let them. Understand?" "I thought as much," said Mrs. Drelmer; "she acted just the least little bit _too_ right." "Well, I haven't my hammer with me--but remember, now, sis, it's for something else than because her father's cravats were the ready-to-wear kind, or because her worthy old grandfather inhaled his soup. Don't forget that." "As there isn't anything else to do," he suggested, a few moments later, "why not get under way and take a run up the coast?" "But I must get back to my babies," said Mrs. Bines, plaintively. "Here I've been away four days." "All right, ma, I suppose we shall have to take you there, only let's get out of here right away. We can bring sis and you back, Mrs. Drelmer, when those people we don't know get off again. There's Mauburn; I'll tell him." "I'll have my dunnage down directly," said Mauburn. Up the street driving a pony-cart came Avice Milbrey. Obeying a quick impulse, Percival stepped to the curb as she came opposite to him. She pulled over. She was radiant in the fluffs of summer white, her hat and gown touched with bits of the same vivid blue that shone in her eyes. The impulse that had prompted him to hail her now prompted wild words. His long habit of thought concerning her enabled him to master this foolishness. But at least he could give her a friendly word of warning. She greeted him with the pretty reserve in her manner that had long marked her bearing toward him. "Good-morning! I've borrowed this cart of Elsie Vainer to drive down to the yacht station for lost mail. Isn't the day perfect--and isn't this the dearest fat, sleepy pony, with his hair in his eyes?" "Miss Milbrey, there's a woman who seems to be a friend of your family--a Mrs.--" "Mrs. Wybert; yes, you know her?" "No, I'd never seen her until last night, nor heard that name until this morning; but I know of her." "Yes?" "It became necessary just now--really, it is not fair of me to speak to you at all--" "Why, pray?--not fair?" "I had to tell your father and brother that we could not meet Mrs. Wybert, and couldn't know any one who received her." "There! I knew the woman wasn't right directly I heard her speak. Surely a word to my father was enough." "But it wasn't, I'm sorry to say. Neither he nor your brother would take my word, and when I started to give my reasons--something it would have been very painful for me to do--your father refused to listen, and declared the acquaintance between our families at an end." "Oh!" "It hurt me in a way I can't tell you, and now, even this talk with you is off-side play. Miss Milbrey!" "Mr. Bines!" "I wouldn't have said what I did to your father and brother without good reason." "I am sure of that, Mr. Bines." "Without reasons I was sure of, you know, so there could be no chance of any mistake."