She was a tall woman, who had been a beautiful girl, and her gray hair had a memory of blondeness in it like Lindau's, March noticed.

She wore a simple silk gown, of a Quakerly gray, and she held a handkerchief folded square, as it had come from the laundress.

Something like the Sabbath quiet of a little wooden meeting-house in thick Western woods expressed itself to him from her presence.
"Laws, mother!" said Miss Mela; "what you got that old thing on for?
If I'd 'a' known you'd 'a' come down in that!" "Coonrod said it was all right, Mely," said her mother.
Miss Mela explained to the Marches: "Mother was raised among the Dunkards, and she thinks it's wicked to wear anything but a gray silk even for dress-up." "You hain't never heared o' the Dunkards, I reckon," the old woman said to Mrs.March.

"Some folks calls 'em the Beardy Men, because they don't never shave; and they wash feet like they do in the Testament.

My uncle was one.