than when alive.

Dot kept crying out with pleasure at all she saw; especially when
little Parrakeets, with feathers as green as the ferns, and gorgeous
red breasts, came in flocks, and welcomed her to their favourite haunt;
and, as she had eaten the berries of understanding, and was the friend
of the Kangaroo, they were not frightened, but perched on her shoulders
and hands, and chatted their merry talk all together. The Kangaroo did
not share Dot's enthusiasm for the beauties of the gully. She said it
was pretty, certainly, but a bad place for Kangaroos, because there was
no grass. For her part, she didn't think any sight in nature so lovely
as a big plain, green with the little blades of new spring grass. The
gully was very showy, but not to her mind so beautiful as the other.

Then they came to a stream that gurgled melodiously as it rippled over
stones in its shallow course, or crept round big grey boulders that
were wrapped in thick mosses, in which were mingled flowers of the pink
and red wild fuchsia, or the creamy great blossoms of the rock lily.
Dot ran down the stream with bare feet, laughing as she paddled in and
out among the rocks and ferns, and the sun shone down on the gleaming
foam of the water, and made golden lights in Dot's wild curls. The
Kangaroo, too, was very merry, and bounded from rock to rock over the
stream, showing what wonderful things she could do in that way; and
sometimes they paused, side by side, and peeped down upon some still
pool that showed their two reflections as in a mirror; and that seemed
so funny to Dot, that her silvery laugh woke the silence in happy
peals, until more green-and-red Parrakeets flew out of the bush to join
in the fun.

When they had followed the stream some distance, the gully opened out
into bush scrub. The little Parrakeets then said "Good-bye," and flew
back to their favourite tree-ferns and bush growth; and the Kangaroo
said, that as they were nearing the home of the Platypus, they must not
play in the stream any more; to do so might warn the creature of their
approach and frighten it. "We shall have to be very careful," she
said, "so that the Platypus will neither hear nor smell you. We will
therefore walk on the opposite shore, as the wind will then blow away
from its home."

The stream no longer chattered over rocky beds, but slid between soft
banks of earth, under tufts of tall rushes, grasses, and ferns, and
soon it opened into a broad p