"Eh, but years don't go for much, not with some folks." "Not with them that keep the dew of their youth," said Lady Louvaine with a smile. "But to do that, friend, a woman should dwell very near to Him who only hath immortality." It was something so unusual for one of this sober household to go out to a party, that a flutter arose, when Mrs Rookwood had departed, concerning Lettice's costume. "She had best go in a washing gown," was the decision of her practical Aunt Temperance. "If she's to be any good with the apples, she must not wear her Sunday best." Lettice's Sunday best was not of an extravagant character, being a dark green perpetuana gown, trimmed with silver lace, a mantle of plum-coloured cloth, and a plum-coloured hood lined with dark green. "But a washing gown, Temperance! It should look so mean," objected Mrs Louvaine. "Her best gown'll look meaner, if all the lace be hung with cobwebs, and all the frilling lined with apple-parings," said Temperance. "She'll take better care of it than so, I hope," said Edith. "And a lawn gown should be cold for this season." "Well, let the child wear her brown kersey. That'll not spoil so much as some." In her heart Lettice hoped she would not have to wear the brown kersey. Brown was such an ugly colour! and the kersey, already worn two seasons, was getting shabby--far too shabby to wear at a party. She would have liked to put on her best. But no girl of twenty, unmarried, at that date decided such matters for herself. "Oh, never that ugly thing!" said Mrs Louvaine. "I mean her to wear my pearls, and that brown stuff--" Wear Aunt Faith's pearls! Lettice's heart beat. "Faith, my dear, I would not have the child use ornaments," said Lady Louvaine quietly. "You wot, those of our way of thinking do commonly discard them. Let us not give occasion for scandal. I would have Lettice go neat and cleanly, and not under her station, but no more." The palpitations of Lettice's heart sobered down. Of course she could not expect to wear pearls and such worldly vanities. Grandmother was always right. "I can tell you, Mrs Gertrude and Mrs Anne shall not be in brown kersey," said Mrs Louvaine, in her usual petulant tone. "And if Aubrey don him not in satin and velvet, my name is not Faith." "It shouldn't have been, my dear, for it isn't your nature," was her sister's comment. "We need not follow a multitude to do evil," quietly responded Lady Louvaine, as she sat and knitted peacefully. "Well, Madam, what comes that to--the brown kersey, trow? Edith saith truth, lawn is cold this weather." "I think, my dear, the green perpetuana were not too good, with clean apron, ruff, and cuffs, and a silver lace: but I would have nought more."