"One who has no courage."
"Is it wicked to be a coward? Because I'm pretty sure I'm one."
Miss Bertha shook her head at her.
"I haven't seen any signs of it, Childie. There are different kinds of cowardice and different kinds of courage. Tiny girls like you are naturally not so fearless as boys. I would rather be afraid of the dark myself than afraid to speak the truth. It is cowardly to tell a lie."
"I haven't any courage," said Christina pitifully, with a quivering under-lip. "If I heard a voice like Joan of Arc did, I should put my fingers in my ears and not listen to it. I couldn't have ridden into battle as she did! I'm afraid of everything, Dawn says I am, and every day I get more things to be afraid of. I'm—I'm afraid of father and mother!"
Her voice faltered. She slipped down from her chair and buried her face in Miss Bertha's black merino gown.
Miss Bertha stroked the soft curly head tenderly.
"That fear won't last long. It is only because they are strangers. Don't think too much about your fears, they are mostly shadows."
"Dawn says a coward ought always to be kicked."
Miss Bertha laughed outright.