"What about yourself, 'Possum?" Aileen asked. "Don't you ever want to go to regattas and dances and jollifications?"
"Me?" said 'Possum, with blank amazement. "Oh, I'm too old—an' I ain't got no time." She stuck out a roughly-booted foot and looked at it critically; then gave an irrepressible little chuckle. "Wouldn't I be a rummy spectacle at a darnce, now, Missus?" But the laugh did not last long, and Aileen thought it was followed by a sigh.
CHAPTER XII
SAILING
"Christmas is coming!" announced Garth at the tea-table. "Isn't it scrummy?"
"Very scrummy," said his father; "but then, Christmas always is. Still, I'm a little worried about old Santa Claus."
"Why, Dad?" Garth's tone showed swift alarm. Santa Claus was absolutely real to him, and his visit was one of the very greatest events of the year.
"Well, it was all right in Melbourne, of course," Tom answered gravely. "He knew his way about there; and then, it's very easy to get about, in decent streets—don't you remember how you thought you heard the feet of his reindeer trotting along Orrong Road? But it's a very different matter to be here in the Bush, where there are mostly no tracks at all. I don't believe reindeer could haul his sleigh round here. Why, Nick O'Connor couldn't manage a sledge with a team of bullocks the other day—it simply rolled over on the hill-sides. Santa Claus' sleigh is much more lightly built than a sledge, I should think."
Tom ceased, and retired behind his tea-cup. Garth's face had lengthened.
"I never thought of that, but I suppose it would be hard for him," said the small boy dolefully. "And of course, he doesn't know we've moved! It's—it's pretty hard luck, isn't it?" He tried to make his tone unconcerned, and Aileen's mother-heart rebelled.