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Alice had been sitting in the big armchair for sometime,
alternately playing with the kitten and trying to wind into a
ball the wool she had salvaged from unraveling her first
attempts at knitting. A cold rain could be heard against the
windows and although it was only four o`clock in the
afternoon it was already dark.

As if to compensate for the noise of the rain, the fire before her
crackled and spit. She watched for a while the small jets of
smoke spurt from the coal as they appeared and as suddenly
turned to flame. She found it was impossible to guess where a
jet would appear next and after a few minutes returned to her
winding.
The ball was growing nicely from the heap of crinkled worsted
on the floor but it was taking a weary time and being made
more difficult by the black kitten, who thinking itself neglected
was needing the pile in an attempt to sleep upon it. Alice
leaned over the arm of the chair to lift the black kitten off the
pile and the white kitten took the opportunity, as kittens will,
to pat the ball of wool from her lap and chase it across the
floor, unwinding yards of her work.

“Oh no kitty that really is to bad.”

She sprang from the chair as she said this and picked up the
kitten from the pile just as it settled, which meant that it still
held on to the wool as Alice lifted it up.
She set off across the room to catch the White kitten as it patted
and followed the shrinking ball. Alas to late, she reached the
kitten as the kitten reached the end of the wound wool and
now stood patting the end as if wondering where the ball had
gone.

Alice picked up the bewildered kitten and with one under each
arm and still trailing a curtain of wool took them to the
window.

She had it in mind to show them the unpleasant view of
the world outside that they would better appreciate the
comfort of the room they were in and behave.
She knelt on the window seat and lifted their faces to the
window pane. The rain had resolved itself into a drizzle, a sort
of wet fog. The lights in the small park that the houses
surrounded were each restricted to a yellow ball.
In the semi-dark centre of the little park she watched the
hopeful boys, ignoring all predictions, pile high the wood for
tomorrows bonfire.

“Tomorrow is the 5th of November……..” and Alice began.
“Remember, remember the 5th of November, Gunpowder,
treason and Plot,” here she just hummed a few bits because she
could never remember the middle of the rhyme, “should never
be forgot” she finished quickly. “I think that word should really
be `forgotten’ to be correct but then of course it would not
rhyme with `Plot’. That is what is called poetic license” she told
the pair who were now both entangled in the yarn that the
black kitten had brought with it when Alice picked it up.
Alice was still wondering where she could get a license for her
grammatical errors, when she realized what was going on.
“Now look at what you’ve done.” She scolded and carried them
to the fireplace and held them up to the mirror so that they
might see.

There, right in the foreground, just behind the glass, was part
of the neck and the whole of the head of LATIMER!

“Admit it” he said, “this is quite unexpected”.

Alice jumped backwards two paces, knocking over a small table
and scattering chessmen all over the carpet. She landed with a
bump on the floor, still holding the two kittens under her arms.
For a moment she could not understand where she was because
she knew she was sitting on the floor but she was still looking
into Latimer`s face.

He was looking down at her, his neck arched over the
mantelpiece through the mirror!

“La………” she started.

She tried again “La……..”

He smiled and said pronouncing every syllable “L..a..ti...mer.”
Alice did not move.

“Jump up, the Red Queen wants to see you.”

Alice`s mouth was still open so she thought she should say
something, “Latimer” she said.

He smiled again, “Yes Latimer, now please get up, put
down the kittens, I think they will be quite safe in their box,
and jump up onto the mantelpiece. The Red Queen is waiting.”
He was still smiling but it was obvious by the way he
emphasized the word `is’ that he was holding in his
annoyance at what he saw to be just plain stubbornness on
Alice`s part. Alice for her part was struck, just for a moment
completely immobile.

“Latimer?” she said again as a question.

“Yes, Latimer, now please…….”

“How did you get here?” Alice said from her position on the
floor.

But before he could answer she endevoured to get up while still
holding the kittens. Turning over onto her elbows and knees,
then with one elbow on the chair and pulling her feet under
her she straightened up. Then she went about trying to pick up
the chess pieces while holding the kittens with her elbows.
Latimer followed her with his eyes for a while, then said with a
carefully controlled voice.

“Alice, put the kittens in their box, pick up the table and put
back the board, leave everything else and follow me!”
She did as she was bidden without further question and walked
back to the fireplace but now she came to actually climbing up
onto the mantelpiece she stopped.

She had never realized it was so high.

She could not bring a chair close to climb upon because the
heat would certainly set it afire. She stood looking up into the
exasperated face of a seven foot ostrich, a seven foot pale violet
ostrich.

He leaned further into the room and down “Hold on to my
neck”.

She was lifted up and out over the mantelpiece then drawn
through the mirror and set down in the room beyond. CHAPTER ONE…….

LATIMER RETURNS:Alice had been sitting in the big armchair for sometime, alternately playing with the kitten and trying to wind into a ball the wool she had salvaged from unraveling her first
attempts at knitting. A cold rain could be heard against the
windows and although it was only four o`clock in the
afternoon it was already dark.

The ball was growing nicely from the heap of crinkled worsted
on the floor but it was taking a weary time and being made
more difficult by the black kitten, who thinking itself neglected
was needing the pile in an attempt to sleep upon it. Alice
leaned over the arm of the chair to lift the black kitten off the
pile and the white kitten took the opportunity, as kittens will,
to pat the ball of wool from her lap and chase it across the
floor, unwinding yards of her work.

“Oh no kitty that really is to bad.”

Alice picked up the bewildered kitten and with one under each
arm and still trailing a curtain of wool took them to the
window.

She had it in mind to show them the unpleasant view of
the world outside that they would better appreciate the
comfort of the room they were in and behave.

She knelt on the window seat and lifted their faces to the
window pane. The rain had resolved itself into a drizzle, a sort
of wet fog. The lights in the small park that the houses
surrounded were each restricted to a yellow ball.

In the semi-dark centre of the little park she watched the
hopeful boys, ignoring all predictions, pile high the wood for
tomorrows bonfire.

Alice was still wondering where she could get a license for her
grammatical errors, when she realized what was going on.
“Now look at what you’ve done.” She scolded and carried them
to the fireplace and held them up to the mirror so that they
might see.

There, right in the foreground, just behind the glass, was part
of the neck and the whole of the head of LATIMER!
“Admit it” he said, “this is quite unexpected”.