Brownie smiled at this definition of the term, but she replied, gravely, and a little sadly:
“My dear, you have been so kind to me, I will gratify you in this, only please remember that I do not care to have it spoken of again. A year ago—yes, and much less—my prospects in life were as bright as your own are now. But death and misfortune took everything from me, and I was obliged to do something for my own support.”
“Did you live in an elegant house, and have servants, horses, and carriages?”
“Yes.”
“Have you always had these things until now?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Then you are every bit as good as we are, and it’s a shame that you are not treated as an equal,” burst from Viola’s lips, indignantly, as she remembered all Isabel’s sneers about “the governess,” and her mother’s scathing remarks regarding “that person, Miss Douglas.”
“Hush, Viola!” Brownie said, quietly, yet again smiling at the child’s naïve remark. “Shall I tell you what my idea of a fine lady is?”
“Yes, do,” Viola said, eagerly.
“In the first place, it is to be always kind and courteous to every one; to respect one’s self, so that one would never do a mean or cruel act; and never to triumph over or hold one’s self above others who may be less fortunate in life.”