"Please, then," said Al-ice, "how am I to get in?"
"There might be some sense in your knock-ing," the Foot-man went on, "if
we were not both on the same side of the door. If you were in the room,
you might knock and I could let you out, you know." He looked up at the
sky all the time he was speak-ing, which Al-ice thought was quite rude.
"But per-haps he can't help it," she thought, "his eyes are so near the
top of his head. Still he might tell me what I ask him--How am I to get
in?" she asked.
"I shall sit here," the Foot-man said, "till to-mor-row--"
Just then the door of the house flew o-pen and a large plate skimmed out
straight at his head; it just grazed his nose and broke on one of the
trees near him. "--or next day, may-be," he went on in the same tone as
if he had not seen the plate.
[Illustration]
"How am I to get in?" Al-ice asked as loud as she could speak.
"Are you to get in at all?" he said. "That's the first thing, you know."
It was, no doubt; but Al-ice didn't like to be told so.
The Foot-man seemed to think this a good time to say a-gain, "I shall
sit here on and off, for days and days."
"But what am I to do?" said Al-ice.
"Do what you like," he said.
"Oh, there's no use to try to talk to him," said Al-ice; "he has no
sense at all." And she o-pened the door and went in.
The door led right in-to a large room that was full of smoke from end to
end: the Duch-ess sat on a stool and held a child in her arms; the cook
stood near the fire and stirred a large pot which seemed to be full of
soup.
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