A passage from A Letter for Alice.
Soon enough, he was ready for me. I saw him shake a leg, as was his custom when he was about to take a picture; and I think his habit was down to nerves or excitement.
(I thought, then, of our Auntie’s Jack Russell in the flower beds at Cheltenham, and I stifled a giggle.)
“Step back a little, Alice” he said. “Place one foot on the border, on those old autumn leaves, - just as you did before.”
I froze. “Alice?” I said. “Did you actually call me Alice?”
Dodgson re-appeared, from beneath his dark mantle.
He was frowning, as if mightily puzzled himself.
“It must be the Tulip Marmoset,” he said, musingly. “That would explain it.”
“The Tulip what?” I set a provocative hand on my hip and cocked my head.
“Do explain,” I insisted, and I suppressed the stirrings of a cat-like grin.
“The Tulip Marmoset, he’s the fellow,” said Dodgson. “You see, he rises with the bulbs in March, – first his ears and then those big dark eyes, as round as Jupiter.”
“What utter nonsense!”
“No it’s true – he climbs the trees and waits there all Easter, and when you walk under the branch he is squatting on, and when he shakes his large posterior...”
“Yes, I really am listening.” Still my hand was on my hip.
“He drops without warning, onto your head, and he holds on to the tips of your ears, - both ears, at the same time; and then he whispers things which are not true.”
“Such as me being Alice, when I am Lorina?”
“Precisely! You have it in one.”
This book is out soon. Keep watching.