a quaint severity to their square and homely faces. Cherry's face
was not square, but a little pointed, piquant countenance, from
which a pair of long-lashed gray eyes looked forth with saucy,
mischievous brightness. Her skin was very fair, with a peach-like
bloom upon it, and her pretty hair hung round it in a mass of red
gold curls.

Cherry, it must be confessed, would have liked to leave her hair
uncovered, but this was altogether against the traditions of her
family. But she had contrived to assume the softly-flowing
coverchief, more like a veil than a cap, which was infinitely
becoming to the sweet childish face, and allowed the pretty curls
to be seen flowing down on either side till they reached the
shoulders. For the rest, her dress was severely plain in its
simplicity: the snow-white kerchief, crossed in front and made fast
behind; the under-petticoat of gray homespun, just showing the
black hose and buckled shoes beneath; and the over-dress of sombre
black or dark brown, puffed out a little over the hips in the
pannier fashion, but without any pretence at following the
extravagances of the day. The sleeves buttoned tightly to the lower
arm, though wider at the cuff, and rose high upon the shoulder with
something of a puff. It was a simple and by no means an unbecoming
style of costume; but Cherry secretly repined at the monotony of
always dressing in precisely the same fashion. Other friends of her
own standing had plenty of pretty things suited to their station,
and why not she? If she asked the question of any, the answer she
always got was that her father followed the Puritan fashions of
dressing and thinking and speaking, and that he held fine clothes
in abhorrence. Cherry would pout a little, and think it a hard
thing that she had been born a Puritan's daughter; but on the whole