Burn, Witch, Burn!

door. The white girl was at a little counter at the back. When she saw me her eyes looked more

frightened than ever and I could see her tremble. I went up to her and she whispered, "Oh, why did you

come back? I told you to go away!" I laughed, I couldn't help it, and I said: "You're the queerest

shopkeeper I ever met. Don't you want people to buy your things?" She said low and very quickly: "It's

too late! You can't go now! But don't touch anything. Don't touch anything she gives you. Don't touch

anything she points out to you." And then in the most everyday way she said quite clearly: "Is there

anything I can show you? We have everything for dolls." The transition was so abrupt that it was startling.

Then I saw that a door had opened in the back of the shop, the same door I had seen opening before,

and that a woman was standing in it looking at me.

I gaped at her I don't know how long. She was so truly extraordinary. She must be almost six feet and

heavy, with enormous breasts. Not fat. Powerful. She has a long face and her skin is brown. She has a

distinct mustache and a mop of iron-gray hair.

It was her eyes that held me spellbound. They are simply enormous black and so full of life! She must

have a tremendous vitality. Or maybe it is the contrast with the white girl who seems to be drained of life.

No, I'm sure she has a most unusual vitality. I had the queerest thrill when she was looking at me. I

thought, nonsensically-"What big eyes you have, grandma!" "The better to see you with, my dear!"

"What big teeth you have, grandma!" "The better to eat you with, my dear!" (I'm not so sure though that it

was all nonsense.) And she really has big teeth, strong and yellow. I said, quite stupidly: "How do you

do?" She smiled and touched me with her hand and I felt another queer thrill. Her hands are the most

beautiful I ever saw. So beautiful, they are uncanny. Long with tapering fingers and so white. Like the

hands El Greco or Botticelli put on their women. I suppose that is what gave me the odd shock. They

don't seem to belong to her immense coarse body at all. But neither do the eyes. The hands and the eyes

go together. Yes, that's it.

She smiled and said: "You love beautiful things." Her voice belongs to hands and eyes. A deep rich

glowing contralto. I could feel it go through me like an organ chord. I nodded. She said: "Then you shall

see them, my dear. Come." She paid no attention to the girl. She turned to the door and I followed her.

As I went through the door I looked back at the girl. She appeared more frightened than ever and

distinctly I saw her lips form the word-"Remember."

The room she led me into was-well, I can't describe it. It was like her eyes and hands and voice.

When I went into it I had the strange feeling that I was no longer in New York. Nor in America. Nor

anywhere on earth, for that matter. I had the feeling that the only real place that existed was the room. It

was frightening. The room was larger than it seemed possible it could be, judging from the size of the

store. Perhaps it was the light that made it seem so. A soft mellow, dusky light. It is exquisitely paneled,

even the ceiling. On one side there is nothing but these beautiful old dark panelings with carvings in very

low relief covering them. There is a fireplace and a fire was burning in it. It was unusually warm but the

warmth was not oppressive. There was a faint fragrant odor, probably from the burning wood. The

furniture is old and exquisite too, but unfamiliar. There are some tapestries, clearly ancient. It is curious,

but I find it difficult to recall clearly just what is in that room. All that is clear is its unfamiliar beauty. I do

remember clearly an immense table, and I recall thinking of it as a "baronial board." And I remember

intensely the round mirror, and I don't like to think of that.

I found myself telling her all about myself and about Diana, and how she loved beautiful things. She

listened, and said in that deep, sweet voice, "She shall have one beautiful thing, my dear." She went to a

cabinet and came to me with the loveliest doll I have ever seen. It made me gasp when I thought how Di

would love it. A little baby doll, and so life-like and exquisite. "Would she like that?" she asked. I said:

"But I could never afford such a treasure. I'm poor." And she laughed, and said: "But I am not poor. This

shall be yours when I have finished dressing it."

It was rude, but I could not help saying: "You must be very, very rich to have all these lovely things. I

wonder why you keep a doll store." And she laughed again and said, "Just to meet nice people like you,

my dear."

It was then I had the peculiar experience, with the mirror. It was round and I had looked and looked at it

because it was like, I thought, the half of an immense globule of clearest water. Its frame was brown

wood elaborately carved, and now and then the reflection of the carvings seemed to dance in the mirror