Firstly, her type, Caroline, child, is not distinguished. She has a large-eyed, dear little profile, which may be very pretty as a full face, and which, framed in appropriately done hair, could succeed in being picturesque, but in itself, with its little snub features, is insignificant. She has rather a big head, and thick, bushy dark hair--which I grieve to observe she has done in a large bun of sausage curls!--a fashion which was never in vogue really among ladies, and for over two or three years has been relegated to the pates of “roof-garden” waitresses and third-class shop assistants. And further to provoke my ire, although this girl in the picture is drawn in an ordinary morning skirt and boots, she wears a light-colored ribbon in her hair! Caroline, dearest, where could her eyes and observation and sense of the fitness of things have been--with the example of the exquisite Parisiennes in front of her--to be able to perpetrate these incongruities! But there is more to come! Her skirt is a rough, useful serge skirt, and her boots, although the heels are too high, are not a bad shape--but with this she has put on one of those cheap, impossible blouses, cut all in one piece--“kimono,” I believe they are called--with short sleeves and an unmeaning black bow tacked to the cuff! Now, a shirt should be a workmanlike thing, as neat as a man’s, and with long sleeves finished by real shirt-cuffs with links. It can be composed of silk, flannel, or linen, but if it is a shirt--that is, a garment for the morning, and to be worn with a rough serge or tweed winter suit--it should have no meaningless fripperies about it. If you want trimmed-up things, have a regular blouse, and then wear it with an afternoon costume. Short-sleeved blouses should only be indulged in in the summer, and when they are made of the finest material. And even then, if the wearer has what the little girl in this picture seems to have--thick wrists and rather big hands--it is wiser to avoid them altogether! Now that I have torn her garments and hair-dressing to pieces, Caroline!--I must scold about her attitude. She is doing two of the most ungraceful things: putting her arm akimbo and crossing her legs! You may say every girl does them--which may be true, but that is no proof that they are pretty or desirable habits! To digress a moment--I went to a party the other night, a musical party where the guests were obliged to sit still round the room quietly; and I counted no less than thirteen of the younger women with their legs crossed, which in some cases, on account of these very narrow skirts we are all wearing, caused the sights to be perfectly grotesque. There is something so cheap about exposing one’s ankles, to say nothing of calf, and almost the knee, to any casual observer--don’t you think so?