He smiled at her.
"Oh, that's all right. You needn't hurry. I wouldn't hurt you. You seem to be a very sprightly sort of a creature. You laugh as though you really meant it. What's your name? I've told you mine."
"Una."
"H-m. That means 'first'."
"But not the last. There are five others—all girls."
"Girls! What a pity!"
She must have glanced around at him quickly, with that bird-like pertness I discovered later. He was declaring war, himself defenseless, and was not even aware of it.
"You're not flattering. A pity! Why?"
"It's too bad if you had to be born why some of you couldn't have been boys. You'd have been a fine sort of a boy, I think."
"Would I really?" she said. "A better sort of a boy than I am a girl?"