. She couldn't think how Louisa could have married such a dreadful
little man as Andrew Mackinnon, with his unmistakable accent and
problematical linen. The gentle creature who had never said a harsh word
to anybody in her life became mysteriously cross and captious. She
hardened her heart even to little Laura Lazarus.

And one morning when she came upon the Mad Hatter in her corner of the
class-room, and found her adding two familiar columns of figures together
and adding them all wrong, Miss Quincey was very cross and very captious
indeed. The Mad Hatter explained at more length than ever that the
figures twisted themselves about; they wouldn't stay still a minute so
that she could hold them; they were always going on and on, turning over
and over, and growing, growing, till there were millions, billions,
trillions of them; oh, they were wonderful things those figures; you
could go on watching them for ever if you were sharp enough; you could
even--here Laura lowered her voice in awe of her own conception, for
Laura was a mystic, a seer, a metaphysician, what you will--you could
even think with them, if you knew how; in short you could do anything
with them but turn them into sums. And as all this was very confusing to
the intellect Miss Quincey became crosser than ever. And while Miss
Quincey quivered all over with irritability, the Mad Hatter paid no heed
whatever to her instructions, but thrust forward a small yellow face that
was all nose and eyes, and gazed at Miss Quincey like one possessed by a
spirit of divination.

"Have you got a headache, Miss Quincey?" she inquired on hearing herself
addressed for the third time as "Stupid child!"

Miss Quincey relied tartly that no, she had not got a headache. The Mad
Hatter appeared to be absorbed in tracing rude verses on her rough
notebook with a paralytic pencil.

"I'm sorry; because then you must be unhappy. When people are cross," she
continued, "it means one of two things. Either their heads ache or they
are unhappy. You must be very unhappy. I know all about it." The
paralytic pencil wavered and came to a full stop. "You like somebody, and
so somebody has made you unhappy."

But for the shame of it, Miss Quincey could have put her head down on the
desk and cried as she had seen the Mad Hatter cry over her sums, and for
the same reason; because she could not put two and two together.

And what Mrs. Moon saw, what Martha saw, what the Mad Hatter divined with
h