This was a part of the little collection of books that I bought in Australia last summer. The box that I sent my collection home in took the full three months to make it here to Canada, and I nearly cried when I saw it.
It was a pretty humble collection as far as my shopping goes, but I had to restrict myself to the one box, so I was really selective about what to buy and I was really lucky to come across some new Penguin editions of Australian classics. Seven Little Australians was one of them.
I had not actually read this when I was a kid, so I was pleasantly surprised on beginning to see how easily the story just flowed, kind of like an Aussie Wodehouse. I loved it, all of it, and at the end I burst in to tears.
Next time I go home I will be looking for more by Ethel Turner, because I want to know what happens next!
I might have to compile a list.