“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!
“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly; Nothing, just now.”
Alice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me what you call yourself?” she said timidly. “I think that might help a little.”
“I’ll tell you, if you’ll come a little further on,” the Fawn said “I can’t remember here.”
Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice’s arms. “And, dear me, you’re a human child!” A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.
Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly- “However, I know my name now,” she said: “that’s some comfort. Alice–Alice– I won’t forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?”
It was not a difficult question to answer, as there was only one road, and the finger-posts both pointed along it. “I’ll settle it,” Alice said to herself, “when the road divides and they point different ways.
But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way, but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts pointing the same way, one marked “TO TWEEDLEDUM’S HOUSE,’ and the other “TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.’
“I do believe,” said Alice at last, “that they live in the same house! I wonder I never thought of that before — but I can’t stay there long. I’ll just call and say “How d’ye do?’ and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only get to the Eighth square before it gets dark!” So she wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a sharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she could not help starting back, but in another moment she recovered herself, feeling sure that they must be.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
THEY were standing under a tree each with an arm round the other’s neck, and Alice knew which was which in a moment, because one of them had “DUM’ embroidered on his collar, and the other DEE.’ “I suppose they’ve each got “TWEEDLE’ round at the back of the collar,” she said to herself.
They stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she was just looking round to see if the word “TWEEDLE’ was written at the back of each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one marked “DUM.’
“If you think we’re wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing. Nohow!”
“Contrariwise” added the one marked ’DEE’, “if you think we’re alive, you ought to speak.”
“I’m sure I’m very sorry,” was all Alice could say; for the words of the old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock, and she could hardly help saying them out loud: —
“Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel;
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.”
“I know what you’re thinking about,” said Tweedledum : “but it isn’t so, nohow.”
“Contrariwise,” continued Tweedledee, “if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be: but as it isn’t, it ain’t. ’That’s logic.”
“I was thinking,” Alice said very politely, “which is the best way out of this wood : it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please ?”
But the fat little men only looked at each other and grinned.
They looked so exactly like a couple of great schoolboys, that Alice couldn’t help pointing her finger at Tweedledum, and saying, “First Boy!”
“Nohow!” Tweedledum cried out briskly, and instantly shut his mouth up again with a snap.