The Carrolls were an easy-to-laugh family, and always seemed to find delicious humor in one another's remarks.
"Amy never thinks any of us can catch anything," said Charlotte, the younger daughter, and they all laughed again.
Mrs.Carroll was always Amy in her family.

Never did one of her children address her as a parent.
They were a charming group in the little, green, gloomy place, each with the strongest possible family likeness to the others.

They were as much alike as the roses on one bush; all were, although not tall, long, and slim of body, and childishly round of face, with delicate coloring; all had pathetic dark eyes and soft lengths of dark hair.
Mrs.Carroll and her husband's sister, although not nearly related (Mrs.Carroll had married her many-times-removed cousin), resembled each other as if they had been sisters of one family, and the children resembled their mother.

The only difference among any of them was a slight difference of expression that existed mostly in the youngest girl, Charlotte.

There were occasions when Charlotte Carroll's expression of soft and pathetic wistfulness and pleading could change to an expression of defiance, almost fierceness.
Her mother often told her that she resembled in disposition her paternal grandmother, who had been a woman of high temper, albeit a great beauty.
"Charlotte, dear, you are just like your grandmother, dear Arthur's mother, who was the worst-tempered and loveliest woman in Kentucky," Mrs.Carroll often remarked.