Gaga gave an admiring gesture. He was overwhelmed.
"Oh, but you're ... marvellous!" he cried. "Simply marvellous! Here's Miss Summers says you're the best hand, for your age, that she's got...."
"Did she say that?" Sally jumped for joy. "Really?" She gave a triumphant laugh, so naïve and full of ingenuous conceitedness that Gaga was overcome afresh with admiration.
"You ought to have been two people," he answered. "Two little girls."
"Half a dozen!" Sally proclaimed. "You see, I'm—it sounds conceited, and I expect I am; but it's true— I'm clever. I'm not soppy. Other girls— Rose Anstey.... They're soppy. They can't do anything. I can do all sorts of things because I'm clever— I can sew, and ... you know, all sorts of things."
Gaga glowed at her words.
"I know," he eagerly agreed. "That's why you're so wonderful. Most girls can only do one thing. They can't even do that very well."
"That's true. Takes them a week to do it; and then somebody has to do it over again for them. They haven't got any brains. They got no sense. They don't think." Sally was impetuous.
"They've got no brains at all," said Gaga. "They're like vegetables." Both laughed, in great spirits and familiarity. "Well, Sally.... My mother's.... She's a wonderful woman, too. She's been marvellous. Marvellous! She must have been like you...."
Sally shrugged.