"But," persisted the girl, "did you think me vulgar?"
"No," replied Ethel. "I thought you had a loud voice, and there's something about a loud voice that I dislike. But even so I should have overlooked that, had I been a good girl. You are so far above me, Nora, that I am ashamed to even acknowledge it."
"Miss Ethel—" said Nora.
"Call me Ethel in future," said the girl—"please do."
"Well—Ethel—you are not the first one who has criticised my voice. My teachers have always done so, and even my mother used to say, 'Not so loud, Nora dear. Speak more gentle like.'"
"Did she?" asked Ethel.
"Yes, my mother had her faults, Ethel, but at heart she was a lady. So your dislike of me was not so strange after all."
"But," interrupted Ethel, "Nora, perhaps I wasn't thankful to hear your loud voice when I lay there wounded and helpless, and I'm ashamed to even have told you."
"I wish you to help me," broke in Nora. "I wish to make myself different—more of a lady. Will you tell me when I talk too loud? It will be a favor if you will."
Ethel assented and kissed Nora affectionately.