"Easy now, Miss Cassowary," said Mr. Macdonald. "Shake hands and make up."
But she wouldn't shake hands and make up, and the young man, hearing Mr. Talker calling him, swung on his heel and went to the stable.
Cassowary stepped up to her brother and said in a low ugly voice, "There's one in this family adopted—I heard the parents say so one day when they didn't know I was near. I'm sure it's you. You don't act like us and we all hate you."
This was such an alarming statement that we all gasped—all that were there. The four younger children seeing their father coming in the green canoe had run down to the house.
My young master, who was nursing his poor sore nose, dropped the hand holding the handkerchief. Big Chief was staring speechlessly at his sister and Dallas stammered, "Cassowary, d-don't jest. You're tormenting Big Chief. Say it's a joke."
Cassowary was not joking, I saw that, and she was no longer upset. She was mistress of herself now and very cool and collected.
"Can't you see that you don't look like us?" she went on. "Look at your round head, your stubby fingers, your small eyes. We have long heads, slender hands, and large eyes."
The bewildered Big Chief turned his hands over and stared at them. Then he put one of them up to his face.
"Oh! girl, girl, have mercy," I felt like pleading, but alas! I could not speak. I pushed myself forward a bit, but she, always such a lover of animals, gave me a calm slap that sent me back pretty quick from the circle of human beings. I must just sorrowfully submit.