Part 14 (1/2)

The Sawhorse stopped short at this pitiful sight, and Dorothy cried out, with ready sympathy:

”What's the matter, Kangaroo?”

”Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!” wailed the Kangaroo; ”I've lost my mi--mi--mi--Oh, boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!”--

”Poor thing,” said the Wizard, ”she's lost her mister. It's probably her husband, and he's dead.”

”No, no, no!” sobbed the kangaroo. ”It--it isn't that. I've lost my mi--mi--Oh, boo, boo-hoo!”

”I know,” said the s.h.a.ggy Man; ”she's lost her mirror.”

”No; it's my mi--mi--mi--Boo-hoo! My mi--Oh, Boo-hoo!” and the kangaroo cried harder than ever.

”It must be her mince-pie,” suggested Aunt Em.

”Or her milk-toast,” proposed Uncle Henry.

”I've lost my mi--mi--mittens!” said the kangaroo, getting it out at last.

”Oh!” cried the Yellow Hen, with a cackle of relief. ”Why didn't you say so before?”

”Boo-hoo! I--I--couldn't,” answered the kangaroo.

”But, see here,” said Dorothy, ”you don't need mittens in this warm weather.”

”Yes, indeed I do,” replied the animal, stopping her sobs and removing her paws from her face to look at the little girl reproachfully. ”My hands will get all sunburned and tanned without my mittens, and I've worn them so long that I'll probably catch cold without them.”

”Nonsense!” said Dorothy. ”I never heard of any kangaroo wearing mittens.”

”Didn't you?” asked the animal, as if surprised.

”Never!” repeated the girl. ”And you'll probably make yourself sick if you don't stop crying. Where do you live?”

”About two miles beyond Fuddlec.u.mjig,” was the answer. ”Grandmother Gnit made me the mittens, and she's one of the Fuddles.”

”Well, you'd better go home now, and perhaps the old lady will make you another pair,” suggested Dorothy. ”We're on our way to Fuddlec.u.mjig, and you may hop along beside us.”

So they rode on, and the kangaroo hopped beside the red wagon and seemed quickly to have forgotten her loss. By and by the Wizard said to the animal:

”Are the Fuddles nice people?”

”Oh, very nice,” answered the kangaroo; ”that is, when they're properly put together. But they get dreadfully scattered and mixed up, at times, and then you can't do anything with them.”

”What do you mean by their getting scattered?” inquired Dorothy.

”Why, they're made in a good many small pieces,” explained the kangaroo; ”and whenever any stranger comes near them they have a habit of falling apart and scattering themselves around. That's when they get so dreadfully mixed, and it's a hard puzzle to put them together again.”

”Who usually puts them together?” asked Omby Amby.

”Any one who is able to match the pieces. I sometimes put Grandmother Gnit together myself, because I know her so well I can tell every piece that belongs to her. Then, when she's all matched, she knits for me, and that's how she made my mittens. But it took a good many days hard knitting, and I had to put Grandmother together a good many times, because every time I came near, she'd scatter herself.”