“If anything should happen to Winkie,” said Alice over and over again to herself, “I—I’d cry—that’s what I’d do!”
And, almost before she knew it, some tears came out of the blue eyes of Alice and wet the pillow on which her head rested.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” thought Winkie’s little mistress. “What am I going to do? I feel so bad about Winkie! I—I’d almost rather have her get out than to have Uncle Elias buy her, even for ten dollars, and sic Buster after her.
“And maybe Buster will come in the night,” thought Alice again, her ideas chasing one another around in her poor little tired head as if playing tag. “Or maybe Uncle Elias might come over and—and do something to Winkie!”
This was too much for Alice to bear. She sat up in bed, and a new idea came to her. Carefully she listened. There was not a sound in the house, for all the family had gone to bed rather early. And then, as she listened, Alice thought she heard, faint and far off, the barking of Buster.
It may have been some dog barking on a distant farm, or it may have been Buster. Alice was sure it was. And then, in her fancy, she heard Winkie’s whistle.
“And she’s chattering her teeth, too!” said Alice half aloud.
She really thought she heard this, and perhaps she did.
“I know what I’m going to do!” said Alice at last. “I’m going down the back stairs, out into the yard, and I’m going to let Winkie run out! I shan’t have Buster chase her or Uncle Elias do anything to her. I’m going to let Winkie go back to the woods.”