Pause.
"Pretty, I mean; an' things more like you have 'em—them, an' her voice was soft an' gentle. But I was only eleven, an' there was a good lot to do, an' I got careless, 'specially with her not there to tell me anything. All the same, I knew things weren't the way she'd like to have them, and it worried me, when I had time to think of it. I'm afraid," she added, honestly, "that that got to be not very often. When you're always wonderin' how you're goin' to get all your jobs done, you can't worry an awful lot over things like that."
"Indeed, you can't. I often wonder how you managed everything—and you such a wee thing," Aileen said. "I think your mother knew and was pleased, 'Possum."
"Do you, truly?" 'Possum asked wistfully. "I used to wonder if she did. I never could feel that she'd got far away, 'cause she didn't want to go. But once I said that to the woman Dad got to look after us, an' she hit me a clip on the ear, an' said I was a wicked little wretch to talk like that."
Aileen's eyes blazed.
"Oh, it was she who was wicked!" she cried. "How could she!"
"If you'd known her, you wouldn't have asked how," 'Possum said grimly. "She was a fair terror, she was. At least"—she stopped and pondered, searching in her mind for an expression at once forcible and refined—"she was a very ... disagreeable person!"
Aileen fell into peals of laughter.
"Oh, it won't do, 'Possum—do say 'a fair terror!'" she begged.
"Well, I guess I'll have to," 'Possum grinned. "Somehow, when you say things, they sound just what you want 'em to say. But unless I make my remarks pretty strong they sound as silly as a wet hen!" With which pearl of speech the conversation came to an abrupt conclusion.