I was so sleepy that I could hardly stand. It was most peculiar. So the fat lady pulled me up and put my head on her lap, just as if I were a baby; I didn’t seem to mind at all. I was rather ashamed when I thought about it afterwards, but Mother says it didn’t matter, and that the fat lady was most kind. I think so, too, though her lap was rather steep to be very comfortable. All the same, I must have gone off to sleep almost directly. The next thing I remember was being lifted up. The fat lady and the little white-rabbit gentleman were bustling about getting down their things, and the train was stopping. “No, this ain’t King’s Cross, my dear,” she said, “but we ain’t far off, so you jist pop on your ’at. We gets out ’ere, but I suppose your Pa will come for you at the next station. I’d like to give my fine gentleman a piece of my mind,” she went on to the little rabbit man, “leaving that pore child in ’ere an’ never so much as taking the trouble to clap ’is eyes upon ’er the ’ole blessed way.” I was so astonished altogether, I could hardly speak. You see, for the first minute or two I couldn’t remember where I was. So I just said, “Thank you very much, thank you,” a good many times over. The fat lady bent down and kissed me, and said, “There’s a good little girl.” And, do you know, when her face was close, it looked for a minute like Mother’s. It was most astonishing, because she was so red and funny. I got quite awake getting my hat down from the rack, and almost directly after we arrived at King’s Cross. There was a great rush and bustle, and only one or two cabs, so it’s lucky the other excursion people didn’t all want them; every one seemed to be walking. I thought I’d better make haste, though, so I said to one cabman, “Are you engaged?” and when he said “No,” I jumped in quickly. Well, I expected that he’d start at once, but he didn’t. I waited a minute or two, then I poked open the little hole, which is rather difficult to do because it’s so high. I said, “Will you tell your horse to go, please?” He looked most astonished. He said, “You ain’t all alone?” I said “Yes.” Then he was very cross. He said “Come, now, get out of this.” I remembered then that I hadn’t told him where to go to, and I thought that might be making him so disagreeable. I said, “I beg your pardon for not telling you that I want to go to Waterloo Station, and I want to start at once, please.” The man seemed to get more surprised still. He said (I can’t help it, it’s sounding dreadful, but it’s what he really did say)--he said, “Well, I’m blessed!” Then he called out to a porter, but the porter was too busy to hear him.