Her skin, eyes, and hair were of different shades (yet not so very different) of greyish brown; her nose was long and knotty, her mouth and chin apparently taken at random from a box of misfits.

Yes, the cedar fence-rail came as near to it as anything could.

Yet somehow, no one who had seen the light of kindness in those faded eyes, and heard the sweet, cordial tones of that quiet voice, thought much about their owner's looks.

People said it was a pity Abby wasn't better favoured, and then they thought no more about it, but were simply thankful that she existed.
She had led the life that many an ugly saint leads, here in New England, and the world over.

Nurse and drudge for the pretty younger sister, the pride and joy of her heart, till she married and went away to live in a distant State; then drudge and nurse for the invalid mother, broken down by unremitting toil.