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
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
“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 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
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
“Fetch me my gloves this moment!”
Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs
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
Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—“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
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
This time there were
_two_ little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass
“What a number
of cucumber-frames there must be!” thought Alice
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 won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill
the master says
you’re to go down the chimney!”

“Oh
So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?” said Alice to
herself
“Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill
“I’ll put a stop to
this,” she said to herself, and shouted out, “You’d better not do that
again!” which produced another dead silence
Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into
little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her
head
As soon as she was small enough to get
through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of
little animals and birds waiting outside
The poor little Lizard, Bill,
was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it
something out of a bottle
They all made a rush at Alice the moment she
appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself
safe in a thick wood
“The first thing I’ve got to do,” said Alice to herself, as she
wandered about in the wood, “is to grow to my right size again; and the
second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden
An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and
feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her
I’d nearly forgotten that
I’ve got to grow up again
Let me see—how _is_ it to be managed
I
suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great
question is, what?”

The great question certainly was, what
Alice looked all round her at
the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that
looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances
“Who are _you?_” said the Caterpillar
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation
“Explain
yourself!”

“I can’t explain _myself_, I’m afraid, sir,” said Alice, “because I’m
not myself, you see.”

“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar
“Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,” said Alice; “all I know
is, it would feel very queer to _me_.”

“You!” said the Caterpillar contemptuously
“Who are _you?_”

Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation
Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any
good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ unpleasant
state of mind, she turned away
“Come back!” the Caterpillar called after her
“I’ve something
important to say!”

This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again
“Keep your temper,” said the Caterpillar
“Is that all?” said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she
could
Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do,
and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing
“Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all
came different!” Alice replied in a very melancholy voice
“Repeat, ‘_You are old, Father William_,’” said the Caterpillar