"I've lost it," said Dot. "I don't know where it is."
"You make my head feel empty," said the Koala, sadly. "I live in the gum tree over there. Do you eat gum leaves?"
"No. When I'm at home I have milk, and bread, and eggs, and meat."
"Dear me!" said the Koala. "They're all new to one. Is it far? I should like to see the trees they grow on. Please show me the way."
"But I can't," said Dot; "they don't grow on trees, and I don't know my way home. It's lost, you see."
"I don't see," said the native Bear. "I never can see far at night, and not at all in daylight. That is why I came here. I saw your fur shining in the moonlight, and I couldn't make out what it was, so I came to see. If there is anything new to be seen, I must get a near view of it. I don't feel happy if I don't know all about it. Aren't you cold?"
"Yes, I am, a little, since my Kangaroo left me," Dot said.
"Now you make my head feel empty again," said the Koala, plaintively. "What has a Kangaroo got to do with your feeling cold? What have you done with your fur?"
"I never had any," said Dot, "only these curls," and she touched her little head.
"Then you ought to be black," argued the Koala. "You're not the right colour. Only blacks have no fur, but what they steal from the proper owners. Do you steal fur?" it asked in an anxious voice.