another little book. But I don't mean a really abusive aunt. Just a nice, comfortable aunt to admire your jewels and your singing and be a little bit shocked at your slang, and say, 'I may be old-fashioned, but I don't think I would, my dear, if I were you.' It would give a sort of solidity to the establishment, like a mahogany sideboard or a dinner-table that lets out."
"I never," said Lucilla, sewing placidly at a pink print gown in process of remodelling, "I never thought you'd hanker after chaperones."
"It isn't chaperones I want," Jane explained, winding and unwinding the yard measure. "But I should like to have someone who knows the rules. We may be doing quite wrong and not knowing it. There was a play once, or a book or something, called 'The Girl Who Took the Wrong Turning.' For anything we know, we may be taking the wrong turning a hundred times a day. We've nothing to guide us."
"We've got our own common sense," Lucilla pointed out.
"Yes, but it isn't common sense that makes those rules. It's something deep and mysterious that we don't understand. Why, even in little things . . . Is it common sense that decides that you mustn't eat apple-pie with a spoon or take mustard with mutton? Is it common sense that says you must always wear a hat in church except when you're being confirmed?"
"No, dear, that's religion," said Lucilla.
"And all those other rules about what you may and mayn't do with young men? You may dance with them, but you mustn't let them hold your hand or put their arms round your waist except when you're dancing."
"Why, of course not!"
"Jamesie said you must never write letters to gentlemen; but suppose there's something important that you want to say and you won't be seeing them?"
"Common sense would settle that—for me," said Lucilla, biting off her cotton.
"Gravy said a young lady must never invite a young
