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Show Page 82 "Why, it does indeed have a pocket," exclaimed Anne. "What use could it have for such a thing?" "As I said, it is a rich beastie and needs a purse in which to hide its wealth," teased Cisly. "I know you jest," laughed Anne. "Aye," agreed Cisly. "I jest. But it will make a tasty supper, what say you, Anne?" A shadow passed over the face of kindhearted Anne. "Had I known we might make a meal of the fellow, I would prefer not to have made his acquaintance." "You are too softhearted, my sweeting," Cisly said. "Come winter, when hunger pains your innards and makes you cry for food, you will think once again upon this possum." At that moment there was a movement near the stomach of the creature. A small head peeped out of the pocket and squinted round at the world. "Look,Cisly!" cried Anne, pointing. "It is but a pouch for carrying the young." "Why, so it seems," agreed Cisly, though I suspected he knew it all along. "Now indeed we will not have it for our supper," Anne stated firmly. "Aye, my love," agreed Cisly, his eyes warm upon her face. Loosing the possum's tail, he prodded at it with his foot. The animal once again curled into a tight bundle, refusing to |