only time she was ever out of temper was when anyone forgot to put sugar in her tea!
One day, when the children came in from their walk, they went as usual to find Kanny in her own particular apartments—an outhouse, which had been fitted up for her when she first arrived. Instead of bounding to meet them directly she heard their voices, as was her usual habit, Kanny waited for them in her own drawing-room, quite like a lady. As the children ran up to her they suddenly stopped short, for out of Kanny's pouch two little black eyes, and two little skinny hands were peeping. Oh, how happy the children were with the new baby, and what care they and Kanny took of it. Other people might say it was lean, and ill-made, and ugly, but they knew it was the most beautiful creature in the world. For a few weeks nothing was thought of or talked of but the baby kangaroo; then frost came and cold winds blew and one day the poor little baby was found dead in its cradle.
The children did their best to comfort Kanny, and brought her all the sweet things they could think of, and by-and-by she began to play again. Her favourite prank was to jump on top of the great walls seven feet high, which shut in the fruit garden and shut out the children, and then spring right down among the bushes where her favourite currants and cherries grew. But Kanny's appetite was a good one, and like all people who are fond of eating, she enjoyed trying experiments. One morning, when she had had as much fruit as she wanted, she leaped on top of the wall which at that end opened out upon a lane, where some workmen were busy making a door into another garden. Her movements were as silent as they were rapid, and when the carpenters suddenly looked up and saw this strange creature standing before them, they flung down their tools and ran away as hard as they could. Nothing ever put out Kanny, so she only began to wonder if they had left anything behind for her
