My grandmother, who was an Erskine, you know, played divinely on the harp, and many of my ancestors, especially the Dagworthys, were accomplished musicians.

Your sister will look lovely bending over a harp.

My grandmother had her portrait painted that way by Peale, and it still hangs in the old house in Trenton.

And they tell me you have brought a little angel with you to bring up and share your loneliness?
How pathetic, and how good of you!" The village women--they came in groups--asked dozens of questions before Jane had had even time to shake each one by the hand.

Was Lucy so in love with the life abroad that she would never come back?
was she just as pretty as ever?
what kind of bonnets were being worn?
etc., etc.
The child in Martha's arms was, of course, the object of special attention.