"I think you manage them wonderfully," said Aileen, her eyes suddenly dim. "You make me ashamed of doing so little."
"Lor', we all think this is awful rough on you!" exclaimed 'Possum. "You ain't used to it—an' I know this place was a fair pigsty. I saw it once, an' it was a disgrace." Her eyes wandered to the door.
"Would you like to see how I have arranged it?" Aileen asked, fathoming the glance.
"My word, wouldn't I!" 'Possum jumped up eagerly. "I think this is the nicest room I ever saw! Would it be botherin' you, Missus?"
"I'd like to," said Aileen. She led the way out of the sitting-room.
It smote her heart to see the girl's frank delight in the little rooms. To her, fresh from the "House Beautiful," they seemed unutterably small and poky: but to 'Possum they were visions of bewildering splendour. Most of all, to Aileen's astonishment, she admired the bright new bedsteads.
"They are pretty," she said. "There ain't one in our house that ain't home-made, mattresses and all. Dad made 'em out of packin'-cases. I taught the kids some of their letters off 'Johnson's Whiskey' brand on the end o' mine. An' you have such pretty things on 'em." She touched the Indian coverlets lightly. "Fancy a tiny little chap with a grand bed like this! Do all the people in Melbourne have this kind, Missus?"
"A good many, I think," Aileen said. "But I dare say they are not one bit more comfortable than yours, 'Possum."
"No, but they're awful pretty!" 'Possum said. "You must feel so jolly nice when you wake up in 'em. An' everything is just as pretty as the beds." Her glance travelled over the fresh curtains, the pretty cretonnes on the box-tables, and the pictures on the walls. "It's the loveliest house I ever was in, since you came."
"Don't you know any of the houses in the township, 'Possum?"