her doll's little petticoats, and she also made herself all ready to
rise and courtesy.

After the lavender sweetness came the whisper of silk flounces,
growing louder and louder; but there was no sound of footsteps, for
Aunt Camilla moved only with the odor and rustle of a flower. No one
had ever heard her little slippered feet; even her high heels never
tapped the thresholds. She had a way of advancing her toes first and
making the next step with a tilt, so soft that it was scarcely a
break from a glide, and yet clearing the floor as to her slipper
heels.

Lucina knew her aunt Camilla was coming down the stairs by the
rustling of her silk flounces along the rails of the banisters, like
harp-strings; then there was a cumulative whisper and an entrance.

Lucina rose, holding her doll like a dignified little mother, and
dropped a courtesy.

"Good-afternoon," said Aunt Camilla.

"Good-afternoon," returned Lucina.

"How do you do?" asked Aunt Camilla.

"Pretty well, I thank you," replied Lucina.

"How is your mother?"

"Pretty well, I thank you."