“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they shan’t get me, Klara said. And she walked on twice as proud.’ “By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. The nearer she came the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire sky. The door had remained open all this time. Through it she could see a garden—a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that she had ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretched between hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes these paths ended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against the clouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you would have thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, like living jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sang so hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their little throats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, all kinds of delicious-looking fruits and candies. “Klara could not scramble through the door quickly enough. “But as she put one foot on the threshold the little old lady appeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort when she looked at her. It seemed to Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel and her eyes hard. “‘Are you the little girl who’s run away?’ the old lady asked. “‘Yes,’ Klara faltered. “‘And you want to live in the Kingdom of the Moon?’ “‘Yes.’ “‘Enter then.’ “The old lady stepped aside and Klara marched across the threshold. She felt the door swinging to behind her. She heard a bang as it closed, shutting her out of the world and into the moon. “And then—and then—what do you think happened?” Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and Maida rose to their knees. “What happened?” they asked breathlessly. “The garden vanished as utterly as if it were a broken soap-bubble. Gone were the trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains and the birds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits. “The place had become a huge, dreary waste, stretching as far as Klara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all the trash that the world had outgrown had been dumped here—it was so covered with heaps of old rubbish. “Klara turned to the old lady. She had not changed except that her cruel mouth sneered. “Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go home,’ she screamed. ‘Let me go back to my mother.’ “The old lady only smiled. ‘You open that door and let me go back to my mother,’ Klara cried passionately. “‘But I can’t open it,’ the old lady said. ‘It’s locked. I have no keys.’ “‘Where are the keys?’ Klara asked. “The old lady pointed to the endless heaps of rubbish. ‘There, somewhere,’ she said. “‘I’ll find them,’ Klara screamed, ‘and open that door and run back to my home. You shan’t keep me from my own dear mother, you wicked woman.’