Then the elders began to talk of past fashions. Miss Cynthia said her mother's wedding gown was made with a full straight skirt six yards around, and had one little hoop at the hips to hold it out. When Miss Cynthia's elder sisters were grown, she cut it up and made them each a frock, with skirts two and a quarter yards wide, short full waists, and puffed sleeves. Big poke bonnets were worn with great bunches of flowers inside, and an immense bow at the top, where the strings were really tied. If you wanted to be very coquettish, you had the bow rather on one side. The skirts barely reached the ankles, and black satin slippers were to be worn on fine occasions; white or sometimes pale colours to parties. "And now we have come back to wide full skirts," said Miss Cynthia. "We're putting stiffening in to hold them out. And there's talk of hoops." Another odd custom was coming into vogue. It was considered much more genteel to say "dress." Frock had a sort of common country sound, because the farmers wore tow frocks at their work. The little girl had been laughed at for saying it, and she was trying very hard to always call the garment a "dress." Gown was considered rather reprehensible, as it savoured of old ladies' bed-gowns. Now we have gone back to frocks and gowns. "The Continental fashions were extremely picturesque," said Mrs. Jasper. "And the men were strong and earnest, and equal to the emergencies of the day, if they did indulge in adornments considered rather feminine now. But I like the variety. The newly-arrived emigrants in their native garb interest me." "There are some around in Houston Street," laughed Ben. "Dutch girls with flaxen hair and little caps, and those queer waists with shoulder straps, and thick woollen stockings. Some of them wear wooden shoes. And Irish women with great plaid cloaks and little shawls tied over their heads, short skirts and nailed shoes that clatter on the sidewalk." "I should like to see them," said Daisy. "Joe ought to take you out on St. Patrick's day," returned Ben. "But they soon reach the dead level of uniformity." "Fancy an Indian in coat and trousers instead of blanket, war-paint, and feathers," and Jim laughed at the idea. "I think we shall hardly be able to reduce him to modern costumes. He does not take kindly to civilisation." "He's shamefully treated anyway." "Oh, Jim, it won't do to take your noble red men from romance. The heroes of King Philip's time have vanished." Jim was reading Cooper, and had large faith in the children of the forest. The next generation of school-boys called them "sneaking red dogs," and planned to go out on the plains and shoot them. "If we absorb all these people, we shall be a curiously conglomerate nation by and by," exclaimed Mrs. Jasper.