e
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."

Mrs. Merrick sighed, but stubbornly maintained her position.

"I don't suggest 'buying' such people; not at all, John. It's what is
called--ah--ah--'influence'; or, or--"

"Or 'pull.' 'Pull' is a better word, Martha. Do you imagine there's any
value in social position that can be acquired by 'pull'?"

"Of course. It has to be acquired some way--if one is not born to it. As
a matter of fact, Louise is entitled, through her connection with _my_
family--"

"Pshaw, I knew _your_ family, Martha," he interrupted. "An arrant lot of
humbugs."

"John Merrick!"

"Don't get riled. It's the truth. I _knew_ 'em. On her father's side
Louise has just as much to brag about--an' no more. We Merricks never
amounted to much, an' didn't hanker to trip the light fantastic in
swell society. Once, though, when I was a boy, I had a cousin who
spelled down the whole crowd at a spellin'-bee. We were quite proud of
him then; but he went wrong after his triumph, poor fellow! and became a
book agent. Now, Martha,