when we were at home. Aileen was up too. She had done all the
dairying lately by herself. There were about a dozen cows to milk, and
she had managed it all herself every day that we were away; put up the
calves every afternoon, drove up the cows in the cold mornings, made
the butter, which she used to salt and put into a keg, and feed the pigs
with the skim milk. It was rather hard work for her, but I never saw her
equal for farm work--rough or smooth. And she used to manage to dress
neat and look pretty all the time; not like some small settlers'
daughters that I have seen, slouching about with a pair of Blucher boots
on, no bonnet, a dirty frock, and a petticoat like a blanket rag--not
bad-looking girls either--and their hair like a dry mop. No, Aileen was
always neat and tidy, with a good pair of thick boots outside and a thin
pair for the house when she'd done her work.

She could frighten a wildish cow and bail up anything that would stay
in a yard with her. She could ride like a bird and drive bullocks on a
pinch in a dray or at plough, chop wood, too, as well as here and there
a one. But when she was in the house and regularly set down to her
sewing she'd look that quiet and steady-going you'd think she was only
fit to teach in a school or sell laces and gloves.

And so she was when she was let work in her own way, but if she was
crossed or put upon, or saw anything going wrong, she'd hold up her
head and talk as straight as any man I ever saw. She'd a look just like
father when he'd made up his mind, only her way was always the right
way. What a difference it makes, doesn't it? And she was so handsome
with it. I've seen a goodish lot of women since I left the old place,
let alone her that's helped to put me where I am, but I don't think
I ever saw a girl that was a patch on Aileen for looks. She had
a wonderful fair skin, and her eyes were large and soft like poor
mother's. When she was a little raised-like you'd see a pink flush come
on her cheeks like a peach blossom in September, and her eyes had a
bright startled look like a doe kangaroo when she jumps up and looks
round. Her teeth were as white and even as a black gin's. The mouth was
something like father's, and when she shut it up we boys always knew
she'd made up her mind, and wasn't going to be turned from it. But her
heart was that good that she was always thinking of others and not of
herself. I believe--I know--she'd have died for any one she loved.