better

But I’d better take him his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.” As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name “W.

Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (“That’s Bill,” thought Alice,) “Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but I’m a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!”

“I’ll put a stop to this,” she said to herself, and shouted out, “You’d better not do that again!” which produced another dead silence.

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, “It was the _best_ butter, you know.”