Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
RATTLE OK By HARRY WARNER, JR. Illustrated by FINLAY story. opponent. So the climax of one tactic did not simply overturn the Hartshorne, co-founder, from its nail. It tinkled imposingly as its glass splintered against the floor. They must have stuck it in to tighten the frame. Gee, it's old." her young life. "Let's fill this order right now!" "Look, Mr. Hawkins! The name on this order—it's my great-grandmother! look fatherly. It didn't. "Well, now. Since it's your relative, let's thrill the old girl. We wouldn't have vacuum sacks any more. So we'll substitute a manky!" "The minute I write a letter to complain about you, you turn up!" she told the parcel. She nudged her toe peevishly against the brown paper wrappings that were tied with a half-transparent twine she had never seen before. The label was addressed in a wandering scrawl, a sharp contrast to the impersonal typing on the customary Hartshorne-Logan bundles. But the familiar RATTLE OK sticker was pasted onto the box, indicating to the delivery man that the contents would make a rattling sound and therefore hadn't been broken in shipment. spring afternoon and the quiet suburban landscape, she went into the house. Two-year-old Sally heard the box rattling. She waddled up on chubby legs and grabbed her mother's skirt. "Want!" she said decisively. the expletives that she wanted to add. cord and yanked. The twine sprang away from the carton as if it were alive. The paper wrappings flapped open. "There!" Sally said. Ann repressed an irrational urge to slap her daughter. Instead, she tossed the wrappings aside and removed the lid from the carton. A slightly crushed thin cardboard box lay on top. Ann pulled out the dress and shook it into a freely hanging position. Then she groaned. "We'll have to send it back," Ann said, "and get the one we ordered." She tried to take it off, but the child squawked violently. Ann grabbed "It's me," her husband said. "Slow day at the office, so I came home early." Sally crouched to jump at her father. Before she could leap, he grabbed her up bodily and hugged her. Then he saw the box. "Your order's here? Good. What's this thing?" He was looking at a small box he had pulled from the carton. Its lid contained a single word: MANKY. The box rattled when he shook it. Les pulled off the lid and found inside a circular, shiny metal object. A triangular trio of jacks stuck out from one end. "Is this the doorbell? I've never seen a plug like this. And there's no wire." He peered into the box for an instruction sheet, uselessly. "They must have made a mistake. It looks like some kind of farm equipment." He tossed the manky onto the hassock and delved into the carton again. Sally was still in his arms. "That's the doorbell, I think," he said, looking at the next object. It had a lovely, tubular shape, a half-dozen connecting rods and a plug for a wall socket. "It looks terribly expensive. Maybe they sent door chimes instead of the doorbell." propulsion. A half-hour later, when the meal was almost ready, two things happened: Bob came home from school through the back door and a strange voice said from the front of the house, "Don't answer the front door." under his arm. She went into the front room. Her husband was standing with fists on hips, looking at the front door, chuckling. "Neatest trick I've seen in a long time. That voice you heard was the new doorbell. I put it up while you were in the kitchen. Did you hear what happened when old lady Burnett out there pushed the button?" "Oh. Something like those name cards with something funny printed on repeating that message, you'd better shut that part off. It might get boring after a while. And it might insult someone." "Queer," he said. "That isn't in contact with the door itself. I don't see how it can keep the door from opening." "I realize that I'm a terrible bother." But she walked down the front steps and disappeared around the side of the house. "Don't open the back door." The well-modulated voice from the small doorbell box threatened to penetrate every corner of the house. Ann looked doubtfully at her husband's lips. They weren't moving. "If this is ventriloquism—" she began icily. the kitchen, nearly falling. She stared grimly at Ann and looked suspiciously behind her. "The children have some new toys," Ann improvised hastily. "Sally is with a few faint cheers, came from the doorbell-box when she crossed the threshold. distance by the eyeball, and picked up the box. "Hey, watch out!" Bob cried. A small flashlight fell from the box, landed on its side and its bulb flashed on, throwing a pencil of light through an instruction booklet, frowning. "This toy is too complicated for a ten-year-old boy," Les told his wife. "I don't know why you ordered such a thing." He tossed the booklet into the empty box. stood out clearly against the shiny, coated paper. the parcel. Her heart sank. Bob rigged up trestles to warn visitors from the front porch. Ann put small wads of cotton into her ears, because she didn't like the rhythmic rattle, soft but persistent, that emerged from the hall closet where the manky sat. Sally was whining occasionally in her sleep. When daylight entered her room, Sally's nightgown had turned back into quick answer to the letter she had written yesterday. It must have voice said. "Your son is in trouble. He claims that it's connected with something that his parents gave him." "My son?" Ann asked incredulously. "Bob?" "Yes. It's a little gadget that looks like a water pistol. Your son insists that he didn't know it would make clothing transparent. He involving his name, if you'll—" a sick baby here. Don't do anything till I telephone my husband. And I'm sorry for Bob. I mean I'm sorry for the girls, and for the boys, too. I'm sorry for—for everything. Good-by." death if I yanked it off. But it's such an extreme allergy that it may kill her, if we leave it in contact with the skin." The manky's rattle suddenly began rhythmically from the lower part of the house. Ann clutched the side of the chair, trying to keep herself under control. A siren wailed somewhere down the street, grew louder gesticulating wildly to nobody in particular. "It's murder!" she screamed. "Murder again! He's been poisoned! He's going to die! It means the electric chair!" doorbell was monotonously saying in a monotone: "Don't answer me, don't answer me, don't go to the door." weary sadness. "People will suspect you of being a sex maniac for the rest of your life. You can't possibly explain—" knocking. He ignored the doorbell's pleas. "I forgot about it," Bob continued, "when that ray gun accidentally "He put stuff in the sugar?" A deep, booming voice came from the front drifted through the house. "Close the door, close the door," the doorbell was chanting urgently. "Where's that ambulance?" Dr. Schwartz yelled from the top of the steps. "The child's getting worse."

<question>:
What is the significance of the title of the story to the context?

<options>:
A It’s a reference to the dangers contained within the package.
B It’s a reference to the delay of the package being received.
C It’s a reference for the postman to know the package wasn’t broken in shipment
D It’s a reference to there being a baby toy rattle inside the box.

<answer>:

C