"'I don't understand you,' says she.

"'Why, my dear child, it's this way,' I says. 'Your mother an'
father have meant well, but they've been foolish. They've educated
you for a millionairess, an' all that's lackin' is the millions.
You overawed the boys here in Pointview. They thought that you
felt above 'em, whether you did or not; an' the boys on Fifth
Avenue were glad to play with you, but they didn't care to marry
you. I say it kindly, Lizzie, an' I'm a friend o' yer father's,
an' you can afford to let me say what I mean. Those young fellows
wanted the millions as well as the millionairess. One of our boys
fell in love with ye an' tried to keep up, but your pace was too
hot for him. His father got in trouble, an' the boy had to drop
out. Every well-born girl in the village entered the race with ye.
An era of extravagance set in that threatened the solvency, the
honor, o' this sober old community. Their fathers had to borrow
money to keep agoin'. They worked overtime, they importuned their
creditors, they wallowed in low finance while their daughters
revelled in the higher walks o' life an' sang in different
languages. Even your father--I tell you in confidence, for I
suppose he wouldn't have the courage to do it--is in financial
difficulties. Now, Lizzie, I want to be kind to you, for I believe
you're a good girl at heart, but you ought to know that all this is
what your accomplishments have accomplished.'

"She rose an' walked across the room, with trembling lips. She had
seized her parachute an' jumped from her balloon and was slowly
approachin' the earth. I kept her comin', 'These clothes an'
jewels that you wear, Lizzie--these silks an' laces, these