"Well, you do." He turned to Tom, secure of a sympathetic hearing. "An' 'Poss never does what Dad did—he was ploughin' on the side of a hill, an' he let the ol' plough topple over, and him an' the plough went rollin' down like fun. You orter seen him!" The memory induced deep chuckles. "C'n I have some more cake?"
"Joe, you ain't got no manners!" said his sister miserably.
"I got cake," said Joe, with great cheerfulness.
Tom and Aileen burst out laughing.
"Don't worry about him, 'Possum," said Aileen. "Do have another cup. And I want to know how many of you there are at home."
"Well, there's Dad," said 'Possum, bestowing a glance of great scorn on her brother. "Mother died when Joe was a baby. Joe's six, even if he ain't got no manners, an' Polly's seven, an' Bill's ten, and Bertha's twelve. The twins 'ud be fourteen, on'y they died on us when they were kids."
"And who looks after the children?"
"Why, I do—on'y mostly they looks after themselves."
"But who cooks and looks after the house?"
"Me an' Bertha. I used to do it all till Bertha lef' school: she's quick, an' she passed all her exams., an' got her certif'cate last year. Now she helps, an' I will say she's as handy as a pocket in a shirt. Never saw a kid take to cookin' like Bert. That's all she cares about—as long as she can dodge round in the kitchen she never wants to put her nose outside."