She hastily wetted her handkerchief with milk and spread it over the poor leg.
"Oh, that hurts," cried the boy, shrinking.

"Oh--no, it doesn't--it's nice, really." "What's your name ?" said Bobbie.
"Jim." "Mine's Bobbie." "But you're a girl, aren't you ?" "Yes, my long name's Roberta." "I say--Bobbie." "Yes ?" "Wasn't there some more of you just now ?" "Yes, Peter and Phil--that's my brother and sister.

They've gone to get someone to carry you out." "What rum names.

All boys'." "Yes--I wish I was a boy, don't you ?" "I think you're all right as you are." "I didn't mean that--I meant don't you wish YOU were a boy, but of course you are without wishing." "You're just as brave as a boy.

Why didn't you go with the others ?" "Somebody had to stay with you," said Bobbie.
"Tell you what, Bobbie," said Jim, "you're a brick.