Down the Rabbit-Hole

Arwy Official

Alice was beginning to feel that the afternoon had been arranged expressly to bore her. Her sister sat on the bank with a book open across her knees, and though Alice had peeped at it twice, she could find neither pictures nor conversations in it. A book without either seemed to her less like a book than a quiet sort of punishment. The heat made the grass smell sweet and dusty. Bees moved from clover to clover with a…