Through the Looking Glass
”
“And you do Addition?” the White Queen asked. “What's one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?”
“I don't know,” said Alice. “I lost count.”
“She can't do Addition,” the Red Queen interrupted. “Can you do Subtraction? Take nine from eight.”
“Nine from eight I can't, you know,” Alice replied very readily: “but—”
“She can't do Subtraction,” said the White Queen. “Can you do Division? Divide a loaf by a knife—what's the answer to that?”
“I suppose—” Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her. “Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?”
Alice considered. “The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it—and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me —and I'm sure I shouldn't remain!”
“Then you think nothing would remain?” said the Red Queen.
“I think that's the answer.”
“Wrong, as usual,” said the Red Queen: “the dog's temper would remain.”
“But I don't see how—”
“Why, look here!” the Red Queen cried. “The dog would lose its temper, wouldn't it?”
“Perhaps it would,” Alice replied cautiously.
“Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!” the Queen exclaimed triumphantly.
Alice said, as gravely as she could, “They might go different ways.” But she couldn't help thinking to herself, “What dreadful nonsense we ARE talking!”
“She can't do sums a BIT!” the Queens said together, with great emphasis.
“Can YOU do sums?” Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen, for she didn't like being found fault with so much.
The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. “I can do Addition,” “if you give me time—but I can do Subtraction, under ANY circumstances!”
“Of course you know your A B C?” said the Red Queen.
“To be sure I do.” said Alice.
“So do I,” the White Queen whispered: “we'll often say it over together, dear. And I'll tell you a secret—I can read words of one letter! Isn't THAT grand! However, don't be discouraged. You'll come to it in time.”
Here the Red Queen began again.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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