A/N; Hello, all! So, so sorry about the long wait between updates….sadly, my computer has been away for repairs all week, and I'm going to have to send it away again next week, so I have only the rest of the weekend to try my darnedest to get chapter 7 out. I'll do my best! In the meantime, hope you like this little number…it's not quite as long as I'd hoped, but it is more or less nothing but a shameless heap of fluff. Next chapter will have substantially more plot advancement, I assure you. Also, just to be clear….I'm one of those old-timey losers who puts THE END in big bold letters at the end of my fics, so if those words are notably absent, it means there are more chapters to come! ( I say so only because it seems a lot of people were under the impression that chapter 5 was the end of the story, and it definitely was not ). Sorry for the long author's note….enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer; I own nothing. Alice in Wonderland the novel belongs to Lewis Carroll, and the film belongs to Tim Burton.
Dreams of a Memory
Chapter 6
As Alice sat cross-legged on the table with her skirts spread around her knees, looking up with a soft, only faintly smiling expression of contentment and fascination at the Hatter's face, she suddenly realized that it had been nearly five minutes since either of them had spoken a word.
But that's rather nice, she thought to herself, smiling a bit wider, to be able to just look at someone, really look at them. No one at home would let me stare at them without speaking for so long.
The Hatter had his arms folded on the edge of the table in front of her, his chin resting on the back of his knuckles, looking back at her in watchful silence. Every few moments, his bright lips would part for just an instant into a broad grin, revealing his pale gold smile with the dark little hole between his eye teeth.
I could fit my whole fist inside it, Alice thought suddenly with an awkward little laugh.
The Hatter blinked at her, his smile returning.
"You know what they say about people who laugh at nothing," he remarked quietly.
"I wasn't laughing at nothing," she mechanically replied, but smiling all the same herself. She took a deep breath and let it out. "I know that there are so many things I want to say to you….but I can't seem to think of any of them right now."
"Perhaps you've misplaced them," he suggested. "Or…" He lifted one hand and extended his index finger, delicately pressing the tip onto the top of her head. "…perhaps there wasn't enough room for them in your infinitesimal little noggin, and they all flew away."
Alice smirked, swatting his finger away. "I suppose it's possible," she joked. "But are you implying that my mind has become smaller as well?"
"Certainly not. Implying would be sneaky and distasteful. I'm proposing it to your face, like a gentleman."
Alice shook her head, but kept smiling. "I'm so glad to see that you're yourself again. You don't know how terrible it was to see you like----" but she stopped suddenly, catching herself, when she saw the visible change come over him at her words. His smile straightened faintly, his eyes growing serious. He looked down at the table cloth.
"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, rising to her feet and moving towards him.
The Hatter seemed to shake himself, then looked up at her again.
"Enough of that now," he said warmly, waving her away. "Bad for the teeth to apologize too much in one day, you know."
But she saw through his brushing off. Moving closer, she gently placed her small hand on top of his, looking up at him concernedly. "Hatter," she asked softly, searching deep into his eyes. "Are you sure you're alright now?"
He held her gaze for an instant, his mouth half open as if he were about to speak----but then he quickly dropped it again, forcing himself into a smile. Alice pursed her lips worriedly….why wouldn't he say it? There was still something there, something troubling him….she could see it, she was certain it was there.
"I say, Alice," he whispered, squinting down at her and sitting up taller to deliberately show off his bigness. "You are looking especially titchy today. Why is it that every time you pay me a visit, you're smaller than you were the visit before?"
She couldn't help smiling at him, in spite of her lingering concern. It was just so good to see his face again….to know that he was real again, that he was more than the memory of a dream she'd once had…
Catching her smile, the Hatter grinned. "I won't know what to expect the next time….will you have shrunk down to the size of a germ? Shall I bring the head of a hatpin for you to sit on? Or, perhaps, will you have shot up into a giant, the next time you come back from Up----"
All of a sudden, he stopped mid-word, hesitating….then he slowly closed his mouth, looking down again. Alice's ears perked up and she held his knuckle in both hands.
"What is it, Hatter?" she whispered fervently. "Please tell me. Something's still wrong, I can see it."
He stared down at his shoes for another moment, then stubbornly shook his head and forced a smile. The brim of his hat hid his eyes from her view.
"No," he insisted softly. "No….it won't do for today, not at all. We mustn't waste this precious time with trivial matters. It isn't important, Alice, don't spend another speck of thought on it. Not today."
She sighed in frustration. "But, Tarrant----"
"Ah, here we are!" a bright, airy voice interrupted them from across the room. They both looked up to see the White Queen sweeping through the doorway, her hands waving daintily back and forth as she walked. She drew near to the table and held her palm down for Alice to see; balanced precariously on the tip of her finger was a silver button serving as a plate, and on it was a crumb of brown cake half the size of her head. Mirana beamed, showing her pearly white teeth.
"Eat up, Sir Alice," she instructed. "…and you'll be yourself in no time."
Alice glanced back at the Hatter, but his face had lost all traces of their conversation.
"Go on," he waved his hands, smiling as he suddenly whirled up from his chair. "You're beginning to strain my eyes."
Alice sighed. I suppose it will just have to wait…
Picking up the great handful of cake, she bit off as much as she was able to chew in one mouthful and swallowed. It had a strange, thick taste, but was not wholly unappealing….it was somewhere between a sugary sweet and a piece of roast chicken. Following the Queen's cues, she made short work of the whole plate.
No sooner had she finished the cake than she began to feel its effects; she looked down at her toes as the queer sensation began coursing throughout her entire body, tingling to the ends of her extremities. A great pulse seemed to jolt through her, and all at once her head was as high as the Hatter's third button. She quickly sat down on the edge of the table, and in another moment she was large enough to reach both ends of it with her hands…Mirana and Tarrant's faces drew down nearer and nearer to her own, until her toes were brushing the floor and the room no longer looked like a great velvet cavern. For the first time in what seemed like ages, she was at long last her right size again.
The Hatter beamed knowingly, and without warning put his hands on either side of her waist and politely lifted her from the table and set her to her feet on the floor, though of course she was now well able to manage on her own.
"Thank you," she said gratefully to the Queen. "It does grow so tiresome, always being the wrong size."
"You're welcome, of course," Mirana replied graciously. "Now, Sir Alice….it is nearly four o'clock, and I'm sure you must be exhausted. Allow me to show you to your quarters where you may---"
"No!" she cut her off. "I mean….thank you, that's very kind, but….I'm really not very tired." It was a bald lie---Alice felt as if she might drop dead asleep to the floor at any moment---but for some reason, she couldn't bear the idea of leaving the Hatter again so soon, not now that she knew how badly he had needed her.
"Oh," the Queen replied, quickly resuming her smile. "In that case, I shall set about at once preparing a court banquet in honor of your return."
"Oh, please don't go to such trouble on my account…"
Mirana raised a hand to stop her. "Dear Alice, the cooks began boiling pumpkins the moment the Oraculum prophesied your coming! It would be practically beyond my power to stop them from celebrating now. There are so many who want to see you, to thank you. It's no trouble at all, I assure you. I'll send for you in the evening." She issued a small bow, then turned twirling and humming from the room. On her way out, she swept a long, pointed letter opener off one of the Hatter's tables and brandished it in the air like a sword, singing softly to herself. She noticed Alice's gaze and leaned back through the doorway.
"Perfect for suckling plums, you know," she smiled, then disappeared with a flourish of skirts.
Alice watched the place where she had gone for a few seconds, then turned back to the Hatter. He was watching her with warm, flashing eyes.
"That's much better," he said, looking her up and down approvingly. "Even if it does mean my hatpin shall go to waste. And I must say that I envy your choice of footwear."
Alice snorted with laughter, glancing down and wiggling her striped, stockinged toes.
"I've McTwisp's housemaid to thank for that. I must find some way to repay her."
"Invite her to the party," the Hatter suggested.
Alice looked up at him, a nervous twinge suddenly gripping her. "You don't suppose….it isn't going to be a terribly large party, is it? I mean…I'm not sure if I…."
The Hatter moved towards her until they were standing eye to eye, and her voice trailed off. It was nice to be able to look at him properly again, her chin raising only a few inches instead of thrown all the way back. He simply stood there, his hands clasped in front of him.
"Alice," he said, and from the raspy stint of his voice she could already sense that he had slipped into one of his mad whims, "Do you enjoy conversing with butterflies?"
She blinked. "Yes," she answered simply, deeply.
He grinned mischievously. "I suspected as much."
Alice smiled faintly back at him, then sighed heavily, seeing that it was hopeless to try and persuade him to carry their previous talk any further. Looking down for a moment at his hands, she gingerly reached out and wrapped her arms around one of his, moving to stand at his side as if they were a happy pair promenading behind a perambulator down the streets of London.
"Let's go for a walk," she said. "Perhaps on the way we'll come across some of the things I meant to say to you….now that my noggin is of the correct proportion, again."
The Hatter looked at her, all of a sudden quite silent, and smiled plainly….but in that gentle turn of his mouth, the light blazing in his electric green eyes, she could see that he was happy. More than happy….there was something like a quiet, smoldering joy burning behind those eyes, so clear and obvious, it almost seemed to crackle visibly from the orange ends of his wild hair. It didn't matter how he might try to hide it with his ever changing mask of a face….his emotions were always fluttering just beneath the surface, always close enough for her to see instantly, like a flame behind colored glass. He inclined his head in a low bow and extended his free arm towards the doorway. Alice giggled in spite of herself, and together they set off through the door and down the long corridor.
After walking for a short while in warm, comfortable silence, they came into a grand, enormous hall of white marble columns and large windows. Alice recognized it at once as the throne room where she had first met the White Queen and delivered the Vorpal sword….merely standing in the familiar spot sent an instant rush of memories swirling about her. The Hatter noticed her wide eyed gaze.
"Thoughts?" he asked.
She blinked. "Yes. Lots of them."
"It is a lovely chair, isn't it."
It was indeed. The White Queen's throne---though of modest size and make compared with the gaudy thrones of European monarchs Alice had seen pictures of---was a beautifully carved seat of ivory-white stone, inlaid with glistening little rocks that glowed like soft pearls in the afternoon sun.
"It's such an astonishing palace," Alice agreed. "Nothing at all like the ones in my country."
"You ought to see the rest of Underland," the Hatter remarked. "Things were so terribly dreary when you were here last, you wouldn't recognize the place." Immediately after he said it, he looked as if he regretted the choice of words. As Alice looked at him, she thought she saw a flashing spark of yellow cross his eyes, but the next instant they were green again. "I mean….of course you'd recognize it, it isn't as if…I didn't mean…ah….oh, look! What marvelous doorknobs!" he quickly changed the subject, releasing her arm and strolling hurriedly with his hands out toward a set of very large wooden doors in a hallway just outside the throne room. Alice followed him, looking on in admiration at the great beautiful archway, all carved mahogany inlaid with white stone. The Hatter pulled them open a crack, but gave a great start the moment he looked inside, hastily pushing them shut again and spinning around.
"What?" Alice asked curiously.
"Nothing!" the Hatter answered, a bit too quickly and much too brightly. "Nothing at all! Dreadfully boring rubbish in there. Why don't wetrot off to look at the gardens? There's the loveliest little molehill that I've been meaning to check up on since last spring…."
"Tarrant," Alice said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is in that room?"
The Hatter pressed his back closer and closer against the doors as she slowly walked toward him. His eyes darted nervously aside.
"Nothing worth seeing! A room full of junk, that's all it is. Tremendous waste of time."
Alice leaned closer to him, raising one eyebrow disbelievingly. "Really," she muttered.
The Hatter swallowed once, then nodded vigorously.
Alice shook her head. "You don't have much talent for lying, my friend."
"Well, enough of that!" he cried, seizing her by the shoulders and briskly spinning her around, marching her away from the door. "About that molehill---"
Alice sighed, taking him by the wrists and removing his hands. "There there, no need to push," she consoled. "We'll go to the gardens, if you'd prefer."
The Hatter seemed to deflate with relief. Alice smiled back, but behind her eyes flashed a mischievous little gleam.
"After all," he began as they set off at a slow stroll down the hall, "Who wants to spend a perfectly yellowish day poking through some dusty old------Alice, no!" he broke into a startled squawk as she suddenly tore away from his grasp and took off at a dead run toward the wooden doors, cackling with devious laughter. The Hatter stumbled and ran after her with his awkward, dancing steps, holding his hat on with one hand and reaching anxiously forward with the other.
"Please, please…Alice, wait---!"
But she had already reached the doors, seized the handles in both hands, and thrown them wide open. The rush of wind ruffled her skirts and her hair, and she gazed eagerly forward, grinning and gasping for breath……then stopped. Her face fell. Her arms dropped back to her sides.
Behind her, she heard Tarrant's footsteps slow to a halt. She looked at him over her shoulder, her face blank with apology. He looked back at her dejectedly, his shoulders slumping as he gave a great, low exhale.
"Oh, Hatter, I….I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…."
He sighed again, and moped toward her with his head bowed. "I'm sure you would have found out, anyway," he murmured, walking past her into the room. She looked after him for a moment, hesitating. He moved to stand in the middle of the wide, high-ceilinged chamber, then turned around to face her and looked up.
"Well?" he muttered glumly. "Close the door. You'll let in wimbletoffs."
Not caring what a wimbletoff was, Alice obediently shut the doors behind her and moved quickly to his side, turning in circles and gazing all about her as she did.
"The White Queen told me," she said, her voice quiet with awe, "…but I didn't imagine…..oh, Tarrant."
He merely exhaled again and shook his head. "I wish she'd have just thrown them away. It's such an embarrassment."
All around, surrounding them on every side and filling the room to absolute capacity, were hat stands, dark wooden poles each topped with three or four mannequin heads at different heights, the tallest at eye level---and on each head sat a half-finished hat, subdivided straight down the center, just as the ones in the Hatter's workshop had been. There must have been thousands of them; Alice turned round and round in amazement, scarcely able to see through to the walls on either side, the place was so thick with hats….it was a veritable forest of felt and flowers and plumes, in every color and size, shape and style imaginable….she glanced up and saw that even the ceiling was strung with hats, great longs rows of them lined up and pinned to hanging clotheslines across the rafters. For a full few minutes, Alice simply stared with her lips parted.
The Hatter put one hand to his eyes, massaging his tear ducts in his fingers and moaning softly.
"I'd like to burn this miserable room down," he growled. Alice looked at him in surprise.
"Hatter," she said softly. "You mustn't say things like that."
He only hung his head lower. "Yes, but you see…I've been in the habit lately of doing a great many things I mustn't. I suppose I….I simply ought to forget about hatting, altogether. It would seem---" he laughed once, sadly. "---it would seem that I'm the one who's lost their muchness, after all."
Shocked momentarily, Alice moved toward him and took the brim of his hat in her hand, gently lifting it high on his brow so that she could see his eyes. He didn't look up at her. She removed his hat entirely, and at last he lifted his eyes.
"Listen to me," she sternly, penetrating his gaze with her jaw firm. "You are a wonderful hatter. You're thefinest, most wonderful hatter I've ever met."
He smiled sadly and shook his head at her.
"Such kind lies," he muttered. "My favorite flavor."
With a small burst of anger, Alice suddenly lost control of herself, lifted her hand and pinched him sharply on the nose. He jumped, blinking with surprise and widening his eyes.
"Now stop that!" she snapped, whapping him smartly on the arm with his own hat. "Stop it this instant. How dare you think I would lie to you! When I say you're a wonderful hatter,I mean it."
"Look about!" the Hatter protested, lifting both hands to gesture to the collection surrounding them. "I have seen a great deal of success and a great deal of failure in my life, and unless my eyes have been stopped up with an atrocious lot of some very ugly business, then this is without question a veritable monument to the epitome of all hatting failures."
"You've been ill," Alice urged. "You haven't been yourself. And just because the hats aren't finished yet doesn't mean you can't still finish them."
He sighed. "Yes it does. No I can't. I don't want to look at them anymore. They remind me of….."
Alice watched him, waiting. "Of what?" she pressed.
"Of…." he grimaced, and looked away. "They simply remind me."
Alice's face fell in defeat. She could see that nothing she was saying was of any help to him….and yet….something inside her couldn't hold back the words. She couldn't bear to be silent while he was making the face that he was.
"But….they're all so beautiful," she insisted softly.
At that, the Hatter's eyes shot up, a flash of aquatic blue blinking once across them. Alice slowly moved away from him, weaving carefully in between the stands, studying first this creation and then that. It was the truth….bizarrely half completed though they were, the hats were still queer little masterpieces in themselves, each one meticulously hand-crafted and unique. Alice carefully lifted her hand and stroked the petals of a paper rose between her fingers. She felt the Hatter's eyes on her back, and she looked at him over her shoulder. He hesitated, his face torn with consternation as if he were debating something internally. He vigorously rubbed his hands on his waistcoat. After a short silence, he finally approached her and took her by the arm.
"I'll show you something," he said softly, and she dared to believe that his expression had brightened a fraction. Pulling her along behind him, he led her through the dense forest of hat trees until they came to the furthest corner of the room, where all of a sudden the stands cleared out into a little nook that was empty, save for a chair, a tall looking glass, and a folding screen concealing something in the corner of the converging walls.
Alice watched in silence as the Hatter moved away from her and went to stand at the edge of the screen. He took it in his hands and shot her a pleading, but simultaneously almost excited glance.
"Promise not to laugh?" he mumbled.
Alice lifted her hand and crossed her fingers. "Promise," she swore.
The Hatter nodded, shut his eyes, and pushed back the screen. Alice's mouth opened and she breathed in a long, slow breath of astonishment.
"They're…..they're….." she couldn't find a word.
"….for you," the Hatter finished for her, and at long last a wry little smile appeared on his face.
Alice walked slowly toward the separate collection of stands that had been hidden behind the screen. She turned to look at Tarrant in disbelief.
"For me?" she whispered.
He nodded shyly. "I…always thought that blue suited you most favorably."
Standing before Alice was a collection of perhaps a dozen or more of the most beautiful hats she had ever seen, each one worked in a different shade of blue, from cornflower to periwinkle to peacock to midnight. There were tall hats, flat hats, hats with brims and hats without, hats that were beautifully arranged pyramids of paper roses and lilies and birds wings, hats with lace veils and silk ribbons, hats with flowing trains of crepe and rings of studded blue beads. There was a masquerade cap in the shape of a horse's head with great blue globes of glass for the eyes, and one with no less than five life size blue jays crafted from feathers and felt, fluttering their wings and speckled all over with dew drops of costume diamond. Alice gaped with her mouth open for a full five minutes before she could tear her eyes away, walking slowly up and down the line of felt treasures. The Hatter was still watching her, biting his lips with anticipation.
"In all the months that I've been slowly filling this room, these were the only pieces I was ever able to finish," he timidly explained. "I made them in secret, so that no one at court would see them and want them. You….you do still like blue, I hope?"
She couldn't find the right words. For an awkwardly long moment she simply looked at him, her eyes drawn in amazement. Finally, she smiled, and she knew from the way his eyes brightened that he understood what she was trying to say.
"May I try them on?" she whispered.
Tarrant broke into a short, snorting fit of laughter, as if a wave of tangible glee came bursting out of him, then quickly composed himself and drew up the wooden chair that was sitting in front of the full length mirror nearby. Alice sat down and spread her skirts, and the Hatter veritably leapt to snatch the first hat that he could reach. It was a cerulean silk lady's top hat, all strung round with black lace. He placed it ever so carefully over her long hair, and she beamed at her reflection.
"Breathtaking," she spoke to his image in the mirror. He stole away the top hat and immediately replaced it with a sky-blue cloche, topped with an azure fan and a mass of paper violets.
"Charming," she grinned. They went on and on like that until she had tried each of the hats in turn, every time ascribing to it the first word that popped into her head…. Spectacular. Regal. Awe-inspiring. Pinwheel. Playful. Collywobble. Wondrous.
"….beautiful," she breathed simply as they came to the last one, a sunhat broader than her whole body and laced with blue daisies. The Hatter lifted it up, and in the mirror she could see his happiness glowing like a candle.
As easy to read as a book, she thought, smiling….but at the same time, as impossible to fathom as a crystal ball.
"You like them, then?" he asked. Alice turned about in the chair to look at him.
"You've ruined me. I'll never be able to wear another milliner's work again."
The Hatter grinned.
"I told you you were the finest," Alice whispered. "From now on, you'll believe me?"
He didn't answer, but only extended his hand to her, and she took it, letting him lift her up from the chair.
Then….
"Alice," he said, surprising her as he grew suddenly as serious as a statue. She blinked, looking back at him.
"Yes?"
"Alice, I….I…." he stammered slowly for a moment, his long orange brow knitting in thought. He stared oddly at her, leaning closer and tilting her head as if trying to look behind her eyes. "I….I…"
"Yes?" she repeated, quietly.
He abruptly dropped her hand, pinning his arms rigidly to his sides. He held his mouth open, motionless, for another few seconds, as if he couldn't think of the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice issued out in a low, croaking brogue, and she realized that something within his constantly churning mind had suddenly shifted gears on her.
"Do you suppose, Alice…..that there exist many languages in which there is no letter M?"
She blinked again. Only when her shoulders drooped back down did she realize she had been holding them more and more taught as she waited for him to speak, waited for…..what? Why did she suddenly feel disappointed?
"I….I'm not sure," she answered. "I speak a bit of some other languages myself, and as far as I know, most of them use Ms."
The Hatter was no longer looking at her. His gaze was far away, out one of the large windows.
"That is a great relief to me," he muttered in his deep voice.
Alice watched him a moment longer, then felt a sudden inexplicable squirmishness. She looked down at her stocking feet and began twisting her fingers. Every instant that he continued to avoid her gaze, she felt herself growing more uncomfortable.
"Perhaps…..perhaps I ought to find her Majesty," she suggested feebly. "It must be getting a bit late."
"Perfectly sensible," was all the Hatter replied. He had become like stone, his head turned away from her and staring into the distance.
It shouldn't bother me so much, Alice chided herself. …his mood swings. I know perfectly well how he is…..his mind, it….it simply goes off by himself now and then. It's nothing to be upset about.
"Thank you for the hats, Tarrant," she said softly. "Truly. You don't know how much they mean to me."
"I don't….you're right."
She blinked, but refused to let herself be insulted. He's only speaking his mind, after all. Gradually, she made her way past him and began walking back towards the doors. She glanced back, and he hadn't moved from his sudden stock stillness.
"Well….I'll see you tonight?"
"As long as you keep your eyes open."
She nodded solemnly, biting her lip. "Well….goodbye then, for now."
He didn't answer.
Puzzled, but reminding herself over and over not to be hurt, she turned away from him and picked her way back through the forest of hats, at last coming again the doors. She paused for a moment with her hand on the knob, and looked back across the room. The Hatter was hidden from view behind the hundreds of hat stands.
It's nothing, she told herself firmly. He is half-mad, don't forget. He doesn't mean anything by it.
"Nothing by it," she whispered to herself, and opened the door.
The instant the sound of the turning lock clicked into the air, there was a great start of commotion behind her. Alice whirled around to see the Hatter, pushing and shoving his way through the dense crowd of hat stands, knocking them over without looking at them. He marched straight toward her, stopping only when they were face to face.
"Hatter?" she asked, her face blank. What was he….?
"I remember what I meant to tell you," he said, and then, with complete and stolid seriousness, he got down in front of her on one knee, taking one of her hands in both of his.
Alice's heart rocketed into her mouth.
"H-Hatter, what…..what?" she stammered. No, no….it couldn't….what was he….what in the world??
"I meant to say," he continued, and then, to her utter surprise, he raised her hand daintily and kissed the back of it, with all the formality of a perfect English gentlemen, but marked with, in place of British pomposity, an unmistakable tenderness. "That…….I've missed you too, Sir Alice."
She exhaled a great, long rush of breath. Her heart was hammering wildly.
Silly, stupid Alice….letting your imagination run away like that!
But then, for a moment there, he had truly frightened her. Now that she saw what he was really doing, she was so relieved that it was all she could do to keep from laughing hysterically.
"You don't have to call me Sir Alice, silly," she insisted, pulling him up from the floor.
"Don't I?" he replied. "Well then…." This time standing on his feet, he lifted her hand and kissed it again…and this time, she felt a very real, very distinct warmth blushing in her cheeks, and she immediately wondered why.
"Alice, sir," he said, emphasizing her name first; "I'm….glad that you've come back."
"I know," she said gently, smiling in spite of the redness of her face.
"No…." he contradicted suddenly, shaking his head. "You don't."
"I…." Alice stammered, then thought for a moment. I…..don't? Perhaps…he's right. Perhaps I really don't know what he's been through. Perhaps he…..
But at that moment, her thoughts screeched abruptly to a halt as she realized that the Hatter was slowly inching his face closer and closer to hers.
"Tarrant?" she whispered.
There was scarcely a breath of air left between their noses…but at the last moment, he abruptly turned his head to lean over her shoulder----her memory instantly went back to that quiet moment on the Frabjous day, just before she had left, when he had leaned toward her in exactly the same manner---put his lips very close to his ear, and spoke softly to her;
"I am tremendously…..monstrously, glad."
Her heart pounding in her ears, Alice watched him as he pulled slowly back, looked her once more in the eye….then turned straight past her, pushed open the doors, and walked briskly away down the hall, the heels of his boots tapping loudly and the bits of loose ribbon from his pockets trailing behind like so many brightly colored kite tails. She turned to watch him, lips parted and utterly, hopelessly perplexed….when he was about halfway down the corridor, he actually broke into a run, his arms held out awkwardly in the air as if to balance himself…and then, like a mouse vanishing into a hole, he turned through an open doorway and disappeared from sight, leaving Alice standing in the open doorway with a very confused blush still lingering on her cheeks.
Half-mad, indeed!
After staring at the empty hall for a few seconds longer, she shook herself, set her mouth in a firm line, and closed the doors behind her.
"Don't want to let in the wimbletoffs," she muttered.
A/N; I'm not sure I'm totally happy with how I portrayed the Hatter in this chapter…I'm finding out that he's an extremely difficult character to write for, more so than any other I've done thus far. Please review and tell me what you think!