the house if it began ordering people about like that!”
By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with
a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two
or three pairs of tiny white kid-gloves: she took up the fan and a
pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her
eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass.
There was no label this time with the words “DRINK ME,” but
nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. “I know
something interesting is sure to happen,” she said to herself,
“whenever I eat or drink anything: so I’ll just see what this
bottle does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really
I’m quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!”
It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before
she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against
the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken.
She hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself “That’s quite
enough—I hope I shan't grow any more—As it is, I can't get out at
the door—I do wish I hadn't drunk quite so much!”
Alas! It was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and
growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another
minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect
of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm
curled round her head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last
resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the
chimney, and said to herself “Now I can do no more, whatever
happens. What will become of me?”
Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full
effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable,
and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting
out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy.
“It was much pleasanter at home,” thought poor Alice, “when one
wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about
by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down thatby mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down that
rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this
sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When I used
to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened,
and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book
written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write
one—but I’m grown up now,” she added in a sorrowful tone: “at least
there’s no room to grow up any more here.”
“But then,” thought Alice, “shall I never get any older than I
am now? That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but
then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like
that!”
“Oh, you foolish Alice!” she answered herself. “How can you
learn lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no
room at all for any lesson-books!”
And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other,
and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few
minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen.
“Mary Ann! Mary Ann!” said the voice. “Fetch me my gloves this
moment!” Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice
knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled
till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a
thousand times as large as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be
afraid of it.
Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it;
but, as the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard
against it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to
itself “Then I’ll go round and get in at the window.”
“That you wo’n’t!” thought Alice, and, after waiting till she
fancied she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly
spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get
hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a
crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just
possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the
sort.possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the
sort.
Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—“Pat! Pat! Where are you?”
And then a voice she had never heard before, “Sure then I’m here!
Digging for apples, yer honour!”
“Digging for apples, indeed!” said the Rabbit angrily. “Here!
Come and help me out of this!” (Sounds of more broken glass.)
“Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?”
“Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!” (He pronounced it “arrum.”)
“An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills
the whole window!”
“Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.”
“Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it
away!”
There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear
whispers now and then; such as, “Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour,
at all, at all!” “Do as I tell you, you coward!”, and at last she
spread out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This
time there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken
glass. “What a number of cucumber-frames there must be!” thought
Alice. “I wonder what they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the
window, I only wish they could! I’m sure I don't want to stay in
here any longer!”
She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last
came a rumbling of little cart-wheels, and the sound of a good many
voices all talking together: she made out the words: “Where’s the
other ladder?—Why, I hadn’t to bring but one. Bill's got the
other—Bill! Fetch it here, lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No,
tie ’em together first—they don't reach half high enough yet—Oh!
they’ll do well enough. Don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold
of this rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s
coming down! Heads below!” (a loud crash)—“Now, who did that?—It
was Bill, I fancy—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, I shan’t! You
do it!—That I wo’n’t, then!—Bill’s got to go down—Here, Bill! The
master says you’ve got to go down the chimney!”