"Well, there's 1916," said the Red Knight. "Shall we say four years from now on Lincoln's birthday?"
"But there would be no use trying," said Alice.
"You could help me a great deal, you know," said the Red Knight. "By that time women will be voting everywhere. On the one hand there will be woman's new privileges to discuss, and on the other hand there will be her new responsibilities. My hat is still good for something."
"No, no, no," said Alice. "I don't want you to go campaigning any more. The fact is, you are not as strong as you used to be."
"Suppose it is a fact, what difference does it make?" said the Red Knight.
But Alice would not listen. "Why must you always be fighting? Why not leave that for younger people, and let everybody remember you at your best?"
"A man must do something exciting," said the Red Knight.
"Of course he must," said Alice. "I hope, and I'm sure we all hope, you will go on contributing for years and years and years. Good-by."
Her eyes were wet with tears as she sprang backwards through the Outlooking Glass. The Red Knight vanished. She was home again, home in the dear old room with the big reading lamp on the table, and mamma busy with the baby's things, and father asleep over a copy of the Aldrich Monetary Report.
"Oh mamma," she cried.