The Daughters of the Little Grey House

How do you know when you're a young lady? asked Roberta Grey.
She was sitting before the ancient mahogany dressing-table in her—and Wythie's—room, unblushingly regarding herself in the mirror, while the fingers of both hands, supporting her brilliant face, experimented with changes in it by pushing up the delicate eyebrows into quite a celestial angle.
Frances Silsby, from the rocking-chair by the window, and Wythie on the foot of the bed, laughed.
I know I'm young by the record in the Bible—and by the way I feel, said Frances. And I know I'm a lady by the company I keep, since 'birds of a feather,' and so forth. Frances made a deep salaam almost to the floor, taking advantage of the forward tilt of the rocking-chair to deepen it.

That's the retort courteous, Francie. You will be an ornament to the diplomatic circle when you are Lady Ambassadress to the court of St. James'. But I should like to know how to be sure one's reluctant feet have crossed the meeting point of the brook and the river, insisted Rob.
Lady Ambassadress, Rob? hinted Oswyth. You don't think that is tautological, do you? You know in 'Rudder Grange' they never noticed that Pomona had grown up until a young man walked home with her one night, and loitered at the gate; perhaps that's the test, added Wythie slyly. Bruce Rutherford had come down with Rob from Frances' the previous night alone, and not with Basil and Bartlemy to bear them company, as usual, hence Wythie's suggestion had a personal application.
If one had to put on shoes and stockings, for instance, after she ceased to stand where the brook and river meet, she would know that she had waded in and had come out on the other side, a young lady, Rob went on with slightly heightened colour, ignoring her sister. That's it; I have it! she cried, wheeling around to look at her audience outside the glass. It is something of the sort—it's the hair! I am just eighteen, but I wear my hair in a braid, with a big bow where it is turned up on the top of my head. If I discarded that bow, and made a great soft knot of hair 'on the top of my head, in the place where the wool ought to grow' —Rob chanted this direct quotation— I should be a young lady! I think I'll do it!