[ 11 ]

In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.

From the saloon a call came, long in dying. That was a tuningfork the tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call.

Pat paid for diner’s popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with miss Douce.

—The bright stars fade...

A voiceless song sang from within, singing:

—... the morn is breaking.

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording, called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of love’s leavetaking, life’s, love’s morn.

—The dewdrops pearl...

Lenehan’s lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.

—But look this way, he said, rose of Castile.

Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped.

She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose.

—Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her.

She answered, slighting:

—Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies.

Like lady, ladylike.

[ CHAPTER II. The Pool of Tears ]

‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like you,’ (she might well say this), ‘to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!’ But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.

‘I wish I hadn’t cried so much!’ said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. ‘I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.’

Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself.

And she kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:—

                       ‘Fury said to a
                       mouse, That he
                      met in the
                     house,
                   “Let us
                    both go to
                     law: I will
                      prosecute
                       you.—Come,
                         I’ll take no
                         denial; We
                        must have a
                      trial: For
                    really this
                   morning I’ve
                  nothing
                  to do.”
                    Said the
                    mouse to the
                     cur, “Such
                      a trial,
                       dear Sir,
                          With
                        no jury
                      or judge,
                     would be
                    wasting
                    our
                    breath.”
                      “I’ll be
                      judge, I’ll
                       be jury,”
                           Said
                       cunning
                        old Fury:
                        “I’ll
                        try the
                          whole
                          cause,
                            and
                         condemn
                         you
                        to
                         death.”’
              

‘You are not attending!’ said the Mouse to Alice severely. ‘What are you thinking of?’

[ 11, 11 ]

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[ Hebrew ]

[ 8, 6 ]

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