In character they were quite opposite.

John was a harum-scarum chap, up to every scrape; Fred was cautious and steady as Old Time.
Seated in the only free chair in the room--free from litter--was a tall, stout lady.

But that she had so much crimson about her, she would have borne a remarkable resemblance to those two young men, her sons.

She wore a silk dress, gold in one light, green in another, with broad crimson stripes running across it; her cap was of white lace garnished with crimson ribbons, and her cheeks and nose were crimson to match.

As if this were not enough, she wore crimson streamers at her wrists, and a crimson bow on the front of her gown.