When Aunt Em came there to live, she was a young, pretty wife. The sun and wind
had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober
gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also. She was
thin and gaunt, and never smiled now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her,
Aunt Em had been so startled by the child's laughter that she could scream and press
her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy's merry voice reached her ears; and she still
looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find anything to laugh at.
Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and did not know
what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard to his rough boots, and he looked
stern and solemn, and rarely to spoke.