IV
The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill
It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back
again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost
something; and she heard it muttering to itself, “The Duchess! The
Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me
executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where can I have
dropped them, I wonder?” Alice guessed in a moment that it was
looking for the fan and the pair of white kid-gloves, and she very
good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere
to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the
pool; and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door,
had vanished completely.
Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went
hunting about, and called out to her, in an angry tone, “Why, Mary
Ann, what are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and
fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!” And Alice was so
much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction it
pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake that it had
made.
“He took me for his housemaid,” she said to herself
as she ran. “How surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But
I’d better take him his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find
them.” As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the
door of which was a bright brass plate with the name “W. RABBIT”
engraved upon it. She went in without knocking, and hurried
upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann, and
be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and
gloves.
“How queer it seems,” Alice said to herself, “to be
going messages for a rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on
messages next!” And she began fancying the sort of thing that would
happen: “ ‘Miss Alice! Come here directly, and get ready for your
walk!’ ‘Coming in a minute, nurse! But I’ve got to watch this
mouse-hole till Dinah comes back, and see that the mouse doesn’t
get out.’ Only I don’t think,” Alice went on, “that they’d let
Dinah stop in 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 sha’n’t grow any more—As it
is, I ca’n’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 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,e 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 sha’n’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!”

“Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has
he?” said Alice to herself. “Why, they seem to put everything upon
Bill! I wouldn’t be in Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace
is narrow, to be sure; but I think I can kick a
little!”
She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she
could, and waited till she heard a little animal (she couldn’t
guess of what sort it was) scratching and scrambling about in the
chimney close above her: then, saying to herself “This is Bill,”
she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen
next.
The first thing she heard was a general chorus of
“There goes Bill!” then the Rabbit’s voice alone—“Catch him, you by
the hedge!” then silence, and then another confusion of
voices—“Hold up his head—Brandy now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old
fellow? What happened to you? Tell us all about it!” Last came a
little feeble, squeaking voice (“That’s Bill,” thought Alice),
“Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but I’m a
deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me
like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!”
“So you did, old fellow!” said the others.
“We must burn the house down!” said the Rabbit’s
voice. And Alice called out, as loud as she could, “If you do, I’ll
set Dinah at you!”
There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice
thought to herself “I wonder what they will do next! If they
had any sense, they’d take the roof off.” After a minute or two,
they began moving about again, and Alice heard the Rabbit say “A
barrowful will do, to begin with.”
“A barrowful of what? ” thought Alice. But
she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little
pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in
the face. “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. “If I eat one of these cakes,” she
thought, “it’s sure to make some change in my size; and, as
it ca’n’t possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, I
suppose.”
So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was
delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. 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. I think that will be the best plan.”
It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very
neatly and simply arranged: the only difficulty was, that she had
not the smallest idea how to set about it; and, while she was
peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just
over her head made her look up in a great hurry.
An enormous puppy was looking down at her with
large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to
touch her. “Poor little thing!” said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and
she tried hard to whistle to it; but she was terribly frightened
all the time at the thought that it might be hungry, in which case
it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of all her
coaxing.
Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little
bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy: whereupon the puppy
jumped into the air off all its feet at once, with a yelp of
delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it:
then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from
being run over; and, the moment she appeared on the other side, the
puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels
in its hurry to get hold of it: then Alice, thinking it was very
like having a game of play with a carthorse, and expecting every
moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again:
then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick,
running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back,
and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good
way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its
great eyes half shut.

This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making
her escape: so she set off at once, and ran till she was quite
tired and out of breath, and till the puppy’s bark sounded quite
faint in the distance.
“And yet what a dear little puppy it was!” said
Alice, as she leant against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned
herself with one of the leaves. “I should have liked teaching it
tricks very much, if—if I’d only been the right size to do it! Oh
dear! 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 could not see anything that looked liked the right thing to eat
or drink under the circumstances. There was a large mushroom
growing near her, about the same height as herself; and, when she
had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it
occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the
top of it.
She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over
the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a
large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top, with its arms
folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest
notice of her or of anything else.