Newark Evening Star And Newark Advertiser

WOMAN'S KINGDOM
DELINEATOR, STANLEY ARRIGH, EDITED BY

The Wise Woman found Her Young Friend on the verge of tears.

"Mercy alive, what now?" she began, cheerfully; "you and Dick haven't-"

"Dick and I aren't ALWAYS quarreling," announced Her Young Friend, impatiently; "it's this hat. Miriam says it looks fine and Elsie says it's the most unbecoming purchase I ever made. What's a person to do?"

"Use your own judgment and forget that of your friends," declared the Wise Woman, in her most matter-of-fact tone. "A girl cannot begin too early to lean on herself in all matters."

She seated herself and began to draw off her gloves.

"I know a woman who renders you limp as a rag after you've been in her society a little while, simply because she doesn't know what it means to decide anything for herself. She wants your opinion about her clothes, her husband's affairs, her housework, her washwoman's ability, whether to send her children to a private or public school, how she should wear her hair, if you think she ought to entertain her husband's mother more than once a year and-"

"Heavens, don't tell me any more," implored Her Young Friend.

"I could make a much longer list," smiled the Wise Woman, "and the worst of it is that she's quite apt to take your advice, and then blame you if things don't turn out right. It's an awful responsibility. I used to be scared to death every time I gave an opinion."

"And aren't you now?" Her Young Friend poked the roses on her hat with vigor.

"No, indeed."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't call on her any more," asserted the Wise Woman. "She was quite too much for me."

"But I'll never be like her," vigorously said Her Young Friend, "only one simply has to have advice about clothes."

"Not if she studies herself carefully, and learns to know what suits. It is all right to ask a friend's criticism occasionally, but it's a pity to have to depend on it absolutely. If most women went a little deeper into the study of individuality, there'd be a decided increase in the number of American types."

"But I don't know how to begin," cried Her Young Friend, tilting her hat at various angles before the mirror. "Tell me. I know very well that this hat's a fright, but I haven't an idea how to improve it."

"Find out for yourself," gibed the Wise Woman; "study your face and your hair, and pay just enough attention to the styles to keep from looking antiquated. Don't wear a hat or gown that's ugly just because the fashion books say it's quite correct."

Her Young Friend sighed deeply.

"You have so much brains, and I haven't an ounce," she deplored; "I'll never look like anything but a freak if I rely only on my own judgment, for I haven't any."

"Stuff and nonsense. Suit yourself. It's nothing to me," the Wise Woman waxed slightly pettish; "that's what I get for giving advice. Some day I'll learn to mind my own-"

"Oh no, you won't." Her Young Friend gave her a hug. "I promise you not to ask a soul's opinion about anything for a month, if at the end of that time you'll tell me honestly whether I've improved or not. Here's some fudge. I made it. Do you like it this way, or would you use less chocolate?"