He raised his face to his mother's, questioningly.
'Well, try and put your feeling about it into words,' she said.
Lambert hesitated.
'I know,' said Linda, confidently. 'Mother means that true bravery is when there's no pretending about it. Some people who are really afraid pretend they're not—boastingly, you know.'
'And that is one sort of cowardice,' said her mother. 'They don't own the truth, because they're afraid of being thought afraid. You're right so far, Linda; but you do not go quite far enough.'
A little eager sound from Nettie caught her attention.
'Well, Nettie, have you something to say?' she asked.
'I don't quite know,' Nettie began. 'I thought I could see it, but I'm not sure. But isn't it a little like this, mother—that whether one's afraid or not, one should try to do anything that's right to do?'
Her mother smiled.
'Yes, that is something like it,' she said. 'That's what I have been wanting you to get to see. The mastering the fear—that is the truest bravery of all. Not for what others may or may not think of us, but because it is right. When a duty comes in the way, something right or good or kind to do, a really brave person, man, woman, or child, will do it even if it is something which they fear to do.'