"That's right," agreed Mrs. Simpson, falling anew upon the dough. "Tell us about Mrs. Macleod, 'Poss. I s'pose she's a toff, too. Does she dress very swell?"
"Yes, she's a toff," 'Possum said slowly. "But she dresses as plain as you or me, almost. Just print things, an' not one scrap of trimmin'."
"No trimmin'! But I s'pose she has lace collars an' things?"
"No, she hasn't. I never see her with a bit of lace on. Just plain white collars. Washes an' irons 'em herself, too—leastways, she did till she got ol' Mrs. Todd to do the washin'. But she irons 'em. I seen her."
"Fancy her dressin' like that, an' comin' straight from Melbun," said Mrs. Simpson, marvelling on such misuse of opportunities. "But what's she wear when she goes out, 'Poss?"
"Well, sometimes she just wears her old prints. If it's cold she puts on a coat an' skirt—made most awful plain."
"An' a trimmed hat?" said her hostess eagerly.
"No. Her hats is plain, too."
"Well, I never! She must look queer!"
"No, she don't," said 'Possum hotly. "She—she'd look lovely, no matter what she had on. An' even if her clothes is plain, they're just right. You'd say so, if you saw 'em on her."