Burn, Witch, Burn!

like vegetation on the edge of a woodland pool when a breeze ruffles it. I had been wanting to look into

it, and all at once the desire became irresistible. I walked to the mirror. I could see the whole room

reflected in it. Just as though I were looking not at its image or my own image but into another similar

room with a similar me peering out. And then there was a wavering and the reflection of the room

became misty, although the reflection of myself was perfectly clear. Then I could see only myself, and I

seemed to be getting smaller and smaller until I was no bigger than a large doll. I brought my face closer

and the little face thrust itself forward. I shook my head and smiled, and it did the same. It was my

reflection-but so small! And suddenly I felt frightened and shut my eyes tight. And when I looked in the

mirror again everything was as it had been before.

I looked at my watch and was appalled at the time I had spent. I arose to go, still with the panicky feeling

at my heart. She said: "Visit me again tomorrow, my dear. I will have the doll ready for you." I thanked

her and said I would. She went with me to the door of the shop. The girl did not look at me as I passed

through.

Her name is Madame Mandilip. I am not going to her tomorrow nor ever again. She fascinates me but

she makes me afraid. I don't like the way I felt before the round mirror. And when I first looked into it

and saw the whole room reflected, why didn't I see her image in it? I did not! And although the room was

lighted, I can't remember seeing any windows or lamps. And that girl! And yet-Di would love the doll

so!

Nov. 7. Queer how difficult it is to keep to my resolution not to return to Madame Mandilip. It makes me

so restless! Last night I had a terrifying dream. I thought I was back in that room. I could see it distinctly.

And suddenly I realized I was looking out into it. And that I was inside the mirror. I knew I was little.

Like a doll. I was frightened and I beat against it, and fluttered against it like a moth against a

windowpane. Then I saw two beautiful long white hands stretching out to me. They opened the mirror

and caught me and I struggled and fought and tried to get away. I woke with my heart beating so hard it

nigh smothered me. Di says I was crying out: "No! No! I won't! No, I won't!" over and over. She threw

a pillow at me and I suppose that's what awakened me.

Today I left the hospital at four, intending to go right home. I don't know what I could have been thinking

about, but whatever it was I must have been mighty preoccupied. I woke up to find myself in the Subway

Station just getting on a Bowling Green train. That would have taken me to the Battery. I suppose

absentmindedly I had set out for Madame Mandilip's. It gave me such a start that I almost ran out of the

station and up to the street. I think I'm acting very stupidly. I always have prided myself on my common

sense. I think I must consult Dr. Braile and see whether I'm becoming neurotic. There's no earthly reason

why I shouldn't go to see Madame Mandilip. She is most interesting and certainly showed she liked me.

It was so gracious of her to offer me that lovely doll. She must think me ungrateful and rude. And it

would please Di so. When I think of how I've been feeling about the mirror it makes me feel as childish

as Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass, rather. Mirrors or any other reflecting surfaces

make you see queer things sometimes. Probably the heat and the fragrance had a lot to do with it. I really

don't know that Madame Mandilip wasn't reflected. I was too intent upon looking at myself. It's too

absurd to run away and hide like a child from a witch. Yet that's precisely what I'm doing. If it weren't for

that girl-but she certainly is a neurotic! I want to go, and I just don't see why I'm behaving so.

Nov. 10. Well, I'm glad I didn't persist in that ridiculous idea. Madame Mandilip is wonderful. Of course,

there are some queer things I don't understand, but that's because she is so different from any one I've

ever met and because when I get inside her room life becomes so different. When I leave, it's like going

out of some enchanted castle into the prosiest kind of world. Yesterday afternoon I determined I'd go to

see her straight from the hospital. The moment I made up my mind I felt as though a cloud had lifted from

it. Gayer and happier than I've been for a week. When I went in the store the white girl-her name is

Laschna-stared at me as though she was going to cry. She said, in the oddest choked voice,

"Remember that I tried to save you!"

It seemed so funny that I laughed and laughed. Then Madame Mandilip opened the door, and when I

looked at her eyes and heard her voice I knew why I was so light-hearted-it was like coming home after

the most awful siege of home-sickness. The lovely room welcomed me. It really did. It's the only way I

can describe it. I have the queer feeling that the room is as alive as Madame Mandilip. That it is a part of