"But he won't, my dear. He won't. It will take some time to settle your
father's affairs, and the business will have to be transacted here in
New York."

"I know. I suppose that's true. But that doesn't make it any easier.
If he stops here he will stay with us. And what shall we do? We can't
introduce him to our friends, or, at least, to any except our best, our
understanding friends, like you and Malcolm."

"Why, I'm not sure. He is rather--well--er--countryfied, but I believe
he has a good heart. He is not rude or unkind or anything of that sort,
is he?"

"No. No-o. He's not that, at all. In fact, he means to be kind in his
way. But it's such a different way from ours. He is not used to society;
he wouldn't understand that certain things and ways were absolutely
essential. I suppose it isn't his fault exactly, but that doesn't help.
And how can we tell him?"

"I don't know that you can tell him, but you might hint. Diplomacy, my
dear, is one of the necessary elements of life. Whatever else you
do remember to be diplomatic. My poor husband used to have a pet
proverb--he was interested in politics, my dear, and some of his sayings
were a trifle grotesque but very much to the point. He used to say that
one could get rid of more flies with molasses than with a club. And I
think he was right. Now let me consider. Let's look the situation right
in the face. Of course your guardian, as a companion, as an associate
for us, for our kind of people, is, to be quite frank, impossible."

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure he is."