What mattered it to her just than that the rushes had begun to
fade, and to lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment
that she picked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only
a very little while -- and these, being dream-rushes, melted away
almost like snow, as they lay in heaps at her feet -- but Alice
hardly noticed this, there were so many other curious things to think
about.
They hadn't gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars
got fast in the water and WOULDN'T come out again (so Alice explained
it afterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught
her under the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of
`Oh, oh, oh!' from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat,
and down among the heap of rushes.
However, she wasn't hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on
with her knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened.
`That was a nice crab you caught!' she remarked, as Alice got back
into her place, very much relieved to find herself still in the boat.
`Was it? I didn't see it,' Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the
side of the boat into the dark water.
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