n her a massive frame and constitution of
bronze, which made her thoroughly intolerant of those unfortunates who
were not similarly blessed. But, impressive as Mrs. Pennypoker was in
most respects, there was yet one undignified peculiarity which marred
the otherwise perfect majesty of her appearance. Like Samson, her
vulnerable point lay in her hair; or, more properly speaking, in her
lack of it. The ravages of time had removed a part of her dark brown
locks, and left an oval bald spot, closely resembling the tonsure of a
Romish priest. This defect was usually covered with an elaborate pile of
braids and puffs; but occasionally the slippery surface of her bald
crown and the power of gravitation proved too much for her hair-pins,
and the whole structure slipped backward, to reveal a shining expanse of
milk-white skin, gleaming forth from the dark tresses surrounding it.
Moreover, rumor had been known to whisper that there was something
peculiar about the rich brown hue of Mrs. Pennypoker's hair; that it was
remarkable for a person of her age to be so free from the silver threads
common among far younger women; and that, strangest of all, she was
subject to periodical variations of color, her hair turning gray at the
ends and then resuming its original tint, while, incredible as it might
seem, the change always appeared at the ends nearest her scalp, though
the tips of her hairs retained all their wonted lustre.

Coming from far-away New England, Mrs. Pennypoker was true to the blood
of her Puritan ancestry. She had in her composition much of the stuff of
which martyrs are made. She could have gone to the stake for her
opinions; but she could just as cheerfully have turned the tables, and
piled the fagots high about the misguided heretics who ventured to
disagree with her own peculiar doctrines. Ever on the alert to find out
the path of duty and to walk in it, she had promptly accepted the
proposition of her distant cousin, Mr. Everett, to become his
housekeeper, after the death of his wife; and, forsaking all her old
associations, she had girded herself and her trunks, and, with her
parrot as her sole companion, she had retired to the wilderness to
subdue the dragons of anarchy and chaos which had probably entered into
the Everett household.

Her first dragon proved to be a very long-tailed one; and though he was
promptly met, he was by no means so promptly subdued. An hour after her
arrival, she had penetrated to the k