“O, yes, sir, but there be so many feet an’ so little grass. It’s all tramped down afore it has time to grow. Now, sir, please tell me, for I must be goin’, what is the fust thing, in your opinion, to be a lady?”
The Judge considered a minute, then he said: “Let us take your call in sections. When you came in the house I heard your voice away up here shrill and insistent. Now, what was there unladylike about that?”
“I ought to ’a’ spoke low,” she said, eagerly, “soft an’ low.”
“A real lady always speaks in a sweet voice, my child. Don’t scream when talking.”
“The real ladies did that when they come a-shoppin’,” she replied. “They said, ‘Please show me some white lace,’ jus’ as soft as milk.”
“Then take that as your first rule,” said the Judge. “Pitch your voice low. Next I would say that your manner was aggressive when you came in.”
“An’ what are you tryin’ to give me there?” she said, quickly. “What’s aggressive?”
The Judge was intensely amused. Her words were rude, but so well had she remembered his advice that her voice was pitched in a low, almost a sweet, key.
“Rule two,” he observed, “be respectful. Now, I am a much older person than you. You should not address me in the rude, flippant tone in which you address a street urchin. But I am perhaps wrong here. In the course of my life I have observed how popular are the persons who have respect for everyone—even their own servants. One human being has no right to treat another human being with disrespect. Just wait a minute and I will give you an object lesson,” and getting up he rang the bell.
Presently there was a knock at the door.