Burn, Witch, Burn!

her-or rather, a part of the part of her that are her eyes and hands and voice. She didn't ask me why I

had stayed away. She brought out the doll. It is more wonderful than ever. She has still some work to do

on it. We sat and talked, and then she said: "I'd like to make a doll of you, my dear." Those were her

exact words, and for just an instant I had a frightened feeling because I remembered my dream and saw

myself fluttering inside the mirror and trying to get out. And then I realized it was just her way of

speaking, and that she meant she would like to make a doll that looked like me. So I laughed and said,

"Of course you can make a doll of me, Madame Mandilip." I wonder what nationality she is.

She laughed with me, her big eyes bigger than ever and very bright. She brought out some wax and

began to model my head. Those beautiful long fingers worked rapidly as though each of them was a little

artist in itself. I watched them, fascinated. I began to get sleepy, and sleepier and sleepier. She said, "My

dear, I do wish you'd take off your clothes and let me model your whole body. Don't be shocked. I'm

just an old woman." I didn't mind at all, and I said sleepily, "Why, of course you can." And I stood on a

little stool and watched the wax taking shape under those white fingers until it had become a small and

most perfect copy of me. I knew it was perfect, although I was so sleepy I could hardly see it. I was so

sleepy Madame Mandilip had to help me dress, and then I must have gone sound asleep, because I

woke up with quite a start to find her patting my hands and saying, "I'm sorry I tired you, child. Stay if

you wish. But if you must go, it is growing late." I looked at my watch and I was still so sleepy I could

hardly see it, but I knew it was dreadfully late. Then Madame Mandilip pressed her hands over my eyes

and suddenly I was wide awake. She said, "Come tomorrow and take the doll." I said, "I must pay you

what I can afford." She said, "You've paid me in full, my dear, by letting me make a doll of you." Then

we both laughed and I hurried out. The white girl was busy with someone, but I called "au 'voir" to her.

Probably she didn't hear me, for she didn't answer.

Nov. 11. I have the doll and Diana is crazy about it! How glad I am I didn't surrender to that silly morbid

feeling. Di has never had anything that has given her such happiness. She adores it! Sat again for

Madame Mandilip this afternoon for the finishing touches on my own doll. She is a genius. Truly a genius!

I wonder more than ever why she is content to run a little shop. She surely could take her place among

the greatest of artists. The doll literally is me. She asked if she could cut some of my hair for its head and

of course I let her. She tells me this doll is not the real doll she is going to make of me. That will be much

larger. This is just the model from which she will work. I told her I thought this was perfect but she said

the other would be of less perishable material. Maybe she will give me this one after she is finished with it.

I was so anxious to take the baby doll home to Di that I didn't stay long. I smiled and spoke to Laschna

as I went out, and she nodded to me although not very cordially. I wonder if she can be jealous.

Nov. 13. This is the first time I have felt like writing since that dreadful case of Mr. Peters on the morning

of the 10th. I had just finished writing about Di's doll when the hospital called to say they wanted me on

duty that night. Of course, I said I would come. Oh, but I wish I hadn't. I'll never forget that dreadful

death. Never! I don't want to write or think about it. When I came home that morning I could not sleep,

and I tossed and tossed trying to get his face out of my mind. I thought I had schooled myself too well to

be affected by any patient. But there was something-Then I thought that if there was anyone who could

help me to forget, it would be Madame Mandilip. So about two o'clock I went down to see her.

Madame was in the store with Laschna and seemed surprised to see me so early. And not so pleased as

usual, or so I thought but perhaps it was my nervousness. The moment I entered the lovely room I began

to feel better. Madame had been doing something with wire on the table but I couldn't see what because

she made me sit in a big comfortable chair, saying, "You look tired, child. Sit here and rest until I'm

finished and here's an old picture book that will keep you interested." She gave me a queer old book,

long and narrow and it must have been very old because it was on vellum or something and the pictures

and their colorings were like some of those books that have come down from the Middle Ages, the kind

the old monks used to paint. They were all scenes in forests or gardens and the flowers and trees were

the queerest! There were no people or anything in them but you had the strangest feeling that if you had

just a little better eyes you could see people or something behind them. I mean it was as though they