"Ah!" exclaimed her guide, "a stupid wrangle! No wonder that complaints arise, and that the children don't always arrive at their destinations in time. It causes no end of bother. Pass in!" The noise ceased, and in the enormous room hundreds of babies freshly gathered from the garden were being numbered and ticketed by a regular little army of miniature hospital nurses, who received instructions from their superiors standing behind the counter. As she entered, Monica heard that No. 47,859,056—a dear little Indian baby—was to be forwarded to some strange-sounding address in Calcutta, where it was expected in 27 days, 7 hours, 48 minutes, and 11.5 seconds (very business-like, but it would have been simpler to say that day next month, for it was a lunar month).
As it was carried away, Monica and her guide followed and entered the Packing and Forwarding Department, and saw it wrapped up in cabbage leaves, packed in one of the numerous bandboxes which lined the walls, and gently warned that if it cried much it would crack its voice. Then the box was labelled "FRAGILE! WITH CARE!" and put down a trap-door in the floor, where it disappeared from view.
The babies were being brought in rapidly, packed with all despatch, and each received advice, such as, to sleep as much as it could after the journey; when bored, to suck its thumb; to try and get its own way whenever possible; and when it disapproved, to express the same in the usual manner.
Immediately they got outside the Gardeness advised Monica, as her parents were well-to-do, to choose a set of twins, which were not welcome everywhere, and thus save them being planted on a poor family, for they had to be got off somehow, so were always sent (as if by mistake) where least expected. But Monica mentioned her choice, and begged very hard for it. So the Gardeness took the bandbox from her, bade her wait behind a tree, and with that little toss of the head went to gather the Rose baby which had been sent for in so unheard-of a way. Monica waited there so long that she became very anxious.
At last the Gardeness returned, pale and out of breath, hurriedly warned her not to let in any cold air on to the child, which was packed all snug and comfortable in the bandbox, and, above all, to make all speed or she would meet some one she wouldn't like, showed her a short cut to the boundary, kissed her hand, and was gone.
Monica, trembling all over with excitement, hastened away with her precious burden, the difference in weight being scarcely perceptible. She ran quickly towards the spot where she had left the airship, quickly placed her treasure and herself inside, and had just touched the "drop spring" when the Man in the Moon appeared, approaching slowly. His face was turned fully towards her, and looked quite different from what it had been before, calm and expressionless. But she did not trust it, and was thankful when she pushed off and felt the airship was moving away. Feeling safe at last, Monica smiled in triumph; with one hand she raised her bandbox on high, with the other she waved a farewell. Then the Man, as if in protest, lifted his arm so that his face once more was hidden in gloom.
And Monica felt herself dropping, dropping rapidly into the blackness of the icy cold night.
