won’t talk about her any more if you’d rather not.”


“We indeed!” cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of

his tail. “As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always

hated cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name

again!”


“I won’t indeed!” said Alice, in a great hurry to change the

subject of conversation. “Are you—are you fond—of—of

dogs?” The Mouse did not answer, so Alice went on eagerly: “There

is such a nice little dog near our house I should like to show you! A little

bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And

it’ll fetch things when you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg

for its dinner, and all sorts of things—I can’t remember half of

them—and it belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it’s so

useful, it’s worth a hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats

and—oh dear!” cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, “I’m

afraid I’ve offended it again!” For the Mouse was swimming away

from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it

went.


So she called softly after it, “Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we

won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like

them!” When the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to

her: its face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a

low trembling voice, “Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell

you my history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and

dogs.”


It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds

and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and

an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the way, and the

whole party swam to the shore.


CHAPTER III.

A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale


They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the

birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to