if I were going to look like that, there wasn't much sense in dressing. So they were destroyed along with everything else a few weeks later in another one of my purges.

Things had a way of repeating themselves, however, and it wasn't long before I had re-outfitted myself with the help of the local stores and Mother's closets. Over the years I had paid particular attention to the things she no longer seemed to be wearing, some of which I like a great deal. From these I would select one or two suits, a couple of dresses, a slip, and a blouse which, together with the things I had purchased and the necessary foundation garments, gave me a nice little wardrobe. All this I kept hidden in a suitcase in my closet until the inevitable purge, at which time the things I had borrowed would be duly and silently returned. While this may sound awfully foolish, it seemed to me a safer risk to run than that of being trapped should the rest of the household return before their appointed hour. On occasion they had done just that, and only a miracle had spared me in each case. The problem wasn't so much getting out of Mother's clothes (I could stage a quick "shower" and take care of that) as it was of getting them back before she entered her room and discovered the disarray. This way, I not only avoided the hazards of such impromptu "raids,' but obviously gave myself secluded access to my things at any hour of the day or night.

""

Self-recriminations notwithstanding, I must have thought myself a pretty cool customer, deftly spiriting these things away from her closets for such prolonged stretches. Then one day I outsmarted myself. Among my regular confiscations was an attractive little blue tweed suit. A little way down the rack, in "verboten" territory, was the perfect light blue blouse to go with it. This time I took it, along with the rest. After all, I told myself, wasn't the whole place "verboten"?

Breaking rules seldom pays. Some time later Mother missed that blouse and mentioned it to me. "She knows!" was my first thought. What should I do, return the blouse and hope she thinks she merely misplaced it? I never got the chance. She was so disturbed by its absence that she spent the whole day taking a thorough inventory of her closets. All I could do was stand by and watch my goose getting slowly cooked. I was sure it wouldn't take long for her to figure out where everything had

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