"And I'm a Maclahan?"
"Yes," said her father heartily, "and though you're not very grand yet, either in looks or size, you must grow up a brave courageous woman, or you will be the first to disgrace your family."
Christina drew a long breath, but said nothing for some minutes; then she asked:
"And have all the little girl Maclahans been brave always?"
"Let us come and look at some of them," said her father; and he led her to the long picture gallery that wound round the house.
Christina had sometimes been there with Nurse, and had vaguely wondered who all the grand ladies and gentlemen were. It had never entered her head that they were in any way connected with her. Now she looked up at them eagerly and curiously. Her father knew them all by name, he could remember their different histories. Christina looked at and admired the men, but it was the women about whom she asked most.
"And they were really little girls like me, and always brave, father? They never felt afraid of anything?"
"Do they look as if they feared anybody or anything?" her father returned, a little triumph in his tone.
And Christina shook her head decidedly.
"No, they look so straight and high."