Up through it
she saw the moon, whose bright face looked sleepy too, disturbed only
by the little ripples of the rain from the tall flowers on the edges of
the pool.
She fell fast asleep, and all night dreamed about home.
CHAPTER III.
Richard--which is name enough for a fairy story--was the son of a widow
in Alice's village. He was so poor that he did not find himself
generally welcome; so he hardly went anywhere, but read books at home,
and waited upon his mother. His manners, therefore, were shy, and
sufficiently awkward to give an unfavourable impression to those who
looked at outsides. Alice would have despised him; but he never came
near enough for that.
Now Richard had been saving up his few pence in order to buy an
umbrella for his mother; for the winter would come, and the one she had
was almost torn to ribands. One bright summer evening, when he thought
umbrellas must be cheap, he was walking across the market-place to buy
one: there, in the middle of it, stood an odd-looking little man,
actually selling umbrellas. Here was a chance for him! When he drew
nearer, he found that the little man, while vaunting his umbrellas to
the skies, was asking such absurdly small prices for them, that no one
would venture to buy one. He had opened and laid them all out at full
stretch on the market-place--about five-and-twenty of them, stick
downwards, like little tents--and he stood beside, haranguing the
people.
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