"They are only old things," said Baby.
"But I like my old things," said Jem. "I love them. And there is mother's needle case. I wish I might take that. Her dead little sister gave it to her, and she was so sorry when she lost it."
"People ought to take better care of their things," remarked Baby.
Jem would have liked to stay in this room and wander about among her old favorites for a long time, but Baby was in a hurry.
"You'd better come away," she said. "Suppose I was to have to fall awake and leave you?"
The next place they went into was the most wonderful of all.
"This is the Wish room," said Baby. "Your wishes come here—yours and mother's, and Aunt Hetty's and father's and mine. When did you wish that?"
Each article was placed under a glass shade, and labelled with the words and name of the wishers. Some of them were beautiful, indeed; but the tall shade Baby nodded at when she asked her question was truly alarming, and caused Jem a dreadful pang of remorse. Underneath it sat Aunt Hetty, with her mouth stitched up so that she could not speak a word, and beneath the stand was a label bearing these words, in large black letters—
"I wish Aunt Hetty's mouth was sewed up, Jem."
"Oh, dear!" cried Jem, in great distress. "How it must have hurt her! How unkind of me to say it! I wish I hadn't wished it. I wish it would come undone."