“The critic’s task is never for me a pleasant one, Alice.  Least pleasant when it touches one I love.  If you had not asked what I thought of your appearance, I would have intruded no exceptions.  I have been much in society since I was very young, and have always been an observer.  Two classes of women, I notice, usually make up the staple of our social assemblages:  those who consult taste in dress, and those who study effect; those who think and appreciate, and those who court admiration.  By sensible people,—­and we need not pay much regard to the opinion of others,—­these two classes are well understood, and estimated at their real value.”

“It is quite plain, aunt Helen,” said Alice, her color much heightened, “that you have set me over to the side of those who study effect and court admiration.”

“I think you are in danger of going over to that side, my dear,” was gently answered, “and I love you too well not to desire something better for my niece.  Turn your thought inward and get down, if possible, to your actual state of mind.  Why have you chosen this very effective style of dress?  It is not in good taste—­even you, I think, will agree with me so far.”

“Not in good taste, aunt Helen!”

“A prima donna, or a ballet—­”

“How, aunt!” Alice made a quick interruption.

“You see, my child, how I am affected.  Let me say it out in plain words—­your appearance, when, you came in a few minutes ago actually shocked me.”

“Indeed, indeed, aunt Helen, you are too severe in your tastes!  We are not Friends.”

“You are not going in the character of a May queen, Alice, that you should almost hide your beautiful hair in ribbons and flowers.  A stiff bouquet in a silver holder is simply an impediment, and does not give a particle of true womanly grace.  That necklace of pearls, if half hidden among soft laces, would be charming; but banding the uncovered neck and half-exposed chest, it looks bald, inharmonious, and out of place.  White, with a superfluity of pink trimming, jewelry and flowers, I call on the outside of good taste; and if you go as you are, you will certainly attract all eyes, but I am sure you will not win admiration for these things from a single heart whose regard is worth having.  Don’t be hurt with me, Alice.  I am speaking with all love and sincerity, and from a wider experience and observation than it is possible for you to have reached.  Don’t go as you are, if you can possibly make important changes.  What time is left?”

Alice stood silent, with a clouded face.  Her aunt looked at her watch.

“There is a full half hour.  You may do much in that time.  But you had best refer to your mother.  Her taste and mine may not entirely accord.”

“O, as to that, mother is on your side.  But she is always so plain in her notions,” said Alice, with a slight betrayal of impatience.