His wife sat straight in her chair, her large face tilted with a judicial and argumentative air, and Rebecca's red cheeks bloomed out more brilliantly in the heat of the fire.

She sat next her mother, and her smooth dark head with its carven comb arose from her Sunday kerchief with a like carriage.

She and her mother did not look alike, but their motions were curiously similar, and perhaps gave evidence to a subtler resemblance in character and motive power.
Ephraim, undersized for his age, in his hitching, home-made clothes, twisted himself about when Barnabas entered, and stared at him with slow regard.

He eyed the smooth, scented hair, the black satin vest with a pattern of blue flowers on it, the blue coat with brass buttons, and the shining boots, then he whistled softly under his breath.
"Ephraim!" said his mother, sharply.

She had a heavy voice and a slight lisp, which seemed to make it more impressive and more distinctively her own.