Both these elder damsels, who were neither blooming nor pretty nor graceful, like their youngest sister, though they bid fair to be excellent housewives and docile and tractable spouses, delighted in the beauty and wit and freshness of Cherry.

They had never envied her her pretty ways and charming face, but had taken the same pleasure in both that a mother or affectionate aunt might do.

They spoke of her and thought of her as "the child," and if any hard or disagreeable piece of work had to be done, they both vied with each other in contriving that it should not fall to Cherry's lot.
Cherry, although she dearly loved her homely sisters, as well she might, never could quite realize that they were her sisters, and not her aunts.

Although Keziah was only six years her senior, it seemed more like ten, and Jemima had three years' start of Keziah.
They treated her with an indulgence rare between sisters, and from the fact of their being so staid and grave for their years, Cherry could scarcely be blamed for feeling as though she was the only young thing in the house.

Her father talked of grave matters with her aunt and sisters, whilst she sat gaping in weariness or got a book in which to lose herself.