She woke in a little cabin. There was a faint light. Her feet and legs were full of pain, but she was wrapped in blankets, and even the pain could not keep her from feeling gloriously warm and comfortable. A kind-faced woman came forward.
"Where's 'Dad?" 'Possum asked feebly.
"He's all right—asleep in a cabin."
"Where am I?"
"You're in the ladies' cabin on the Omeo," said the woman. "And I'm the stewardess, and we're tied up at Cuninghame, and you're not to worry about anything, you poor child. Drink this."
'Possum did not know what it was: but it was hot and pleasant and soothing, and the woman's kind voice was like music. There did not seem anything to worry about; she might as well go to sleep—and did so.
CHAPTER XIII
AMATEUR SURGERY
"Aileen! Aileen! Are you there?"
It was very early on a hot December morning. Tom Macleod came up the yard hurriedly. His wife appeared at the back door, broom in hand.