filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock
Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in
Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all
would change to dull reality the grass would be only rustling in the
wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds the rattling
teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen s shrill
cries to the voice of the shepherd boy and the sneeze of the baby, the
shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change
(she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard while the
lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock
Turtle s heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers
would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would
keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her
childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children,
and make _their_ eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale,
perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she
would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all
their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer
days.
THE END
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