"I do say it."
"My, but I dread it!" Helen drew in her breath and bit her lip.
"All the more reason why you should do it then," smiled Mrs. Thayer briskly. "You're to learn not to dread it. See? And it'll be easier than you think. There are some very pleasant people coming down. The Gillespies, Mrs. Reynolds and her little Gladys,—about Betty's age, by the way,—and next month there'll be the Drew girls and Mr. Donald Estey and his brother John. Later there will be others—the Chandlers, and Mr. Eric Shaw. And I'm going to begin immediately to have them see you, and have you see them."
"They'll know me as 'Mrs. Darling'?"
"Of course—a friend of mine."
"But I want to—to help in some way."
"You do help. You help with the children—your companionship."
"But that's the way I've learned—so many things, Mrs. Thayer."
"Of course. And that's the way you'll learn—many other things. But there are others—still others—that you can learn in no way as well as by association with the sort of well-bred men and women you will meet this summer. I don't mean that you are always to be with them, my dear; but I do mean that you must be with them enough so that it is a matter of supreme indifference to you whether you are with them or not. Do you understand? You must learn to be at ease with—anybody. See?"
Helen sighed and nodded her head slowly.