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.