But at any rate he might
answer questions.--How am I to get in?' she repeated, aloud.
`I shall sit here,' the Footman remarked, `till tomorrow--'
At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate
came skimming out, straight at the Footman's head: it just
grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees
behind him.
`--or next day, maybe,' the Footman continued in the same tone,
exactly as if nothing had happened.
`How am I to get in?' asked Alice again, in a louder tone.
`ARE you to get in at all?' said the Footman. `That's the
first question, you know.'
It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so.
`It's really dreadful,' she muttered to herself, `the way all the
creatures argue. It's enough to drive one crazy!'
The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for
repeating his remark, with variations. `I shall sit here,' he
said, `on and off, for days and days.'
`But what am I to do?' said Alice.
`Anything you like,' said the Footman, and began whistling.
`Oh, there's no use in talking to him,' said Alice desperately:
`he's perfectly idiotic!' And she opened the door and went in.
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