It was her great charm.

She was too fresh and guileless, and too full of child-like vivacity, was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, to wear combs in her hair, or to turn it up, or to frizzle it, or braid it.

She wore it in a crop, a loosely flowing crop, which had so many rows of curls in it, that the top row was only one curl.

Moderately buxom was her shape, and quite womanly too; but sometimes--yes, sometimes--she even wore a pinafore; and how charming THAT was! Oh! she was indeed 'a gushing thing' (as a young gentleman had observed in verse, in the Poet's Corner of a provincial newspaper), was the youngest Miss Pecksniff! Mr Pecksniff was a moral man--a grave man, a man of noble sentiments and speech--and he had had her christened Mercy.

Mercy! oh, what a charming name for such a pure-souled Being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff! Her sister's name was Charity.