"If you wouldn't mind just callin' me 'Possum," she said. She flushed hotly, and cantered away. They saw that she rode on a man's saddle, sitting easily sideways, with her leg crooked over the pommel.
Tom sat down on a log and stared at his family.
"Well, of all the amazing young women!" he said slowly. "Do you think there are any more at home like her?"
"I think she's ripping!" said Garth.
"I'm not sure that I don't agree with you," his father answered. "But.... Oh, my stars, Aileen, I never felt so small in mv life! She can't be seventeen—and I'm a baby beside her in everything that matters!"
"Well, so am I," said his wife, laughing. "But after all, it's in the bringing-up. We must just be grateful for having neighbours who are willing to take pity on our ignorance. And we're going to learn, Tom."
"There is certainly plenty to learn," he said, grimly. "However, we'll try. They're bricks, anyhow. Now I think it's time we found a good camping-place, and boiled the billy—and the first thing I've to learn is how to make a fire out of damp wood!"
They wandered home towards evening, tired, but content. Something of the homesickness that had lain like a cloud on Aileen's mind had passed away. Life did not seem so much a thing bounded by the four walls of a kitchen. Whether the long, peaceful day in the Bush had helped, or the tonic of 'Possum's cheery, practical voice, she did not know. But she felt better.
As she came through the yard a low snarl greeted her from a box. The three "setty" hens resented any one's passing by their seclusion.
"Hopeful old souls, those," said Tom, laughing. "They're sitting on a half-brick and a hard clod, and I think they expect to hatch out a half-acre allotment and a town hall. Goodness knows how long they have been doing it. No wonder they're bad-tempered."