Betty had never thought of life in that way, and was about to tell Alice how really dull a time she had, when a sound of music interrupted them.
"Oh, how lovely! Somebody's singing!"
"No, you little goose, that's only the victrola," answered Betty.
"What's a victrola?"
Betty tried to explain that it was a machine that caught and imprisoned somebody's voice or the music of some instrument. But Alice couldn't understand. Even when Betty showed her the victrola, and the record, she could hardly believe that a real singer wasn't hidden somewhere making fun of her.
While she was still unpersuaded, Betty heard her father's key in the lock. She knew the car must still be before the door.
"Father, father," she cried, "this is Alice—from Wonderland, you know. Won't you take us for a ride?"
"A little one," said Betty's father. Alice clapped her hands, for she loved to go driving. But when the two little girls were safely seated in the back seat, she began to wonder again.
"Where are the horses?" she inquired.
"Horses! Why, it's an automobile."