"I wish I were not a white little girl," she whispered to the Kangaroo.
The gentle animal patted her kindly with her delicate black hands.
"You are as nice now as my baby Kangaroo," she said sadly, "but you will
have to grow into a real white Human. For some reason there have to be
all sorts of creatures on the earth. There are hawks, snakes, dingoes and
humans, and no one can tell for what good they exist. They must have
dropped on to this world by mistake for another, where there could only
have been themselves. After all," said the kind animal, "It wouldn't do
for every one to be a Kangaroo, for I doubt if there would be enough
grass; but you may become an improved Human."
"How could I be that?" asked Dot, eagerly.
"Never wear kangaroo leather boots--never use kangaroo skin rugs,
and"--here it hesitated a little, as though the subject were a most
unpleasant one to mention.
"Never do what?" enquired Dot, anxious to know all that she should do,
so as to be improved.
"Never, never eat Kangaroo-tail soup!" said the Kangaroo, solemnly.
"I never will," said Dot, earnestly, "I will be an improved Hurnan."
This conversation had been so serious to both Dot and the Kangaroo, that
they had quite forgotten the perilousness of their position. Perhaps this
was because the Kangaroo cannot think, but it quickly jumped to the
conclusion that they were in danger.
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