“When’s your birthday?” she began suddenly.
“The seventh of May. When’s yours?”
“The seventh of June.” Rachel found herself growing excited. This was a promising beginning.
“How many brothers and sisters have you got?”
“Six.”
“Then you’re the seventh child?” Rachel held her breath now.
“Yes. And I’m the youngest.”
“So am I. And is your father the seventh child in his family?” She scarcely dared to put the question.
Diana laughed, and began counting on her fingers. “Let me see—Uncle John, Aunt Margaret.... And there was Aunt May, but she died, and then Uncle Dick.... And then.... Yes, he is. I never thought about it before. What made you think of it?” Diana seemed much amused, but Rachel was desperately serious.
“Wait a minute,” she urged, “and perhaps I’ll tell you.”