Canton crape scarfs. They have showed me some of it at home.
Aunt Oferr says I shall learn the _gavotte_.

Aunt Oferr's house is splendid. The drawing-room is full of
sofas, and divans, and ottomans, and a _causeuse_, a little
S-shaped seat for two people. Everything is covered with blue
velvet, and there are blue silk curtains to the windows, and
great looking-glasses between, that you can see all down into
through rooms and rooms, as if there were a hundred of them. Do
you remember the story Luclarion used to tell us of when she
and her brother Mark were little children and used to play that
the looking-glass-things were real, and that two children lived
in them, in the other room, and how we used to make believe too
in the slanting chimney glass? You could make believe it here
with _forty_ children. But I don't make believe much now. There
is such a lot that is real, and it is all so grown up. It would
seem so silly to have such plays, you know. I can't help
thinking the things that come into my head though, and it seems
sometimes just like a piece of a story, when I walk into the
drawing-room all alone, just before company comes, with my
_gros d'Afrique_ on, and my puffed lace collar, and my hair
tied back with long new black ribbons. It all goes through my
head just how I look coming in, and how grand it is, and what
the words would be in a book about it, and I seem to act a
little bit, just to myself as if I were a girl in a story, and
it seems to say, "And Laura walked up the long drawing-room and
took a book bound in crimson morocco from the white marble pier
table and sat down upon the velvet ottoman in the balcony
window." But what happened then it never tells. I suppose it
will by and by. I am getting used to it all, though; it isn't