"Wait a minute," said Jem. "Are you asleep now?"
"I'm what you call asleep. I can only come here when I'm what you call asleep. Asleep, indeed! It's no wonder we always cry when we have to fall awake."
"But we don't mean to be unkind to you," protested Jem, meekly.
She could not help thinking Baby was very severe.
"Don't mean!" said Baby. "Well, why don't you think more, then? How would you like to have all the nice things snatched away from you, and all the old rubbish packed off on you, as if you hadn't any sense? How would you like to have to sit and stare at things you wanted, and not to be able to reach them, or, if you did reach them, have them fall out of your hand, and roll away in the most unfeeling manner? And then be scolded and called 'cross!' It's no wonder we are bald. You'd be bald yourself. It's trouble and worry that keep us bald until we can begin to take care of ourselves; I had more hair than this at first, but it fell off, as well it might. No philosopher ever thought of that, I suppose!"
"Well," said Jem, in despair, "I hope you enjoy yourself when you are here?"
"Yes, I do," answered Baby. "That's one comfort. There is nothing to knock my head against, and things have patent stoppers on them, so that they can't roll away, and everything is soft and easy to pick up."
There was a slight pause after this, and Baby seemed to cool down.
"I suppose you would like me to show you round?" she said.
"Not if you have any objection," replied Jem, who was rather subdued.