Aileen laughed.
"Very well. Then we'll cut out 'Lor'!' for the future, 'Possum, shall We?"
'Possum stared.
"Ain't I a silly chump?" she said. "I might a known it was wrong, 'cause you never say it. Right-oh, Missus!" And it said something for her determination that no one ever heard her say it again.
It was speech that was the only stumbling-block. Little daintinesses of living came to her naturally, with only a hint, just as daintiness of person had come. Her eye for colour was sure, and she had a natural instinct for arranging flowers and for brightening a room that developed daily under Aileen's gentle tuition. Beginning with perfect cleanliness as the basis of perfection, it was easy to work up and up, learning a little more each day—and 'Possum never had to be told a thing twice. But her unchecked speech was a harder matter, and often the cheeks of both girls burned, until the idea came to Aileen to make a joke of it, when they got on much better. Tom, privately consulted, suggested making 'Possum read aloud, for which she proved to have a natural aptitude, and the exercise taught her more than many lessons.
"You know," she said, one day, "Mother wasn't rough. I was only a bit of a nipper when she died——"
She pulled up, observing Aileen's face.
"Kid, I suppose I should say," she said, grinning broadly. Aileen burst out laughing.
"Try, 'little girl,'" she suggested.
"H'm," said 'Possum critically. "Doesn't sound very satisfyin', does it? Well, I was, anyhow; but I remember a lot about her, an' I know she always had the house dossy——"