"I was wonderin'," said 'Possum, and hesitated—"if you'd very much mind me leavin' these things here. You see, if I take 'em home I'll never wear 'em, an' they'll get grubby an' crushed. But if I could put 'em on sometimes when I come over—not to feel such a pig when you make me come into tea, say. Then they'd be a terrible comfort to me! I do love 'em so, but it's here I want to wear 'em. If I take 'em home I'd take 'em out every day an' look at 'em, but I'd never put 'em on, for fear of spoilin' 'em."
"But, 'Possum, it's only cheap print," Aileen protested. "It will wash beautifully. Why should you be so particular about it?"
"Well, you see, it's all I got," 'Possum returned. "Oh, I simply couldn't bear to spoil 'em, Missus!"
Aileen pondered.
"Of course you can leave them here," she said. "That's quite easy. But, 'Possum, why should it be your only pretty dress? Can't you buy some print, and bring it to me, and we will make it together? You've no idea how easy it is, with a few lessons. Then you could keep your dungarees for work, but put on fresh frocks in the evening, or when you went out."
"Print costs money," said 'Possum.
"But your father——"
"Dad 'ud take a fit if I asked him for any," said the girl. "He thought he was doin' a tremenjous thing when he give me this dungaree the other day."
"Well, you have your own money. You earn it thoroughly enough. Surely you could spend a few shillings of that."
'Possum drew a long breath. Then she put the temptation from her.