I was flat on my stomach looking up at the bed springs, where a colony of jewellike lizards had nested, that I first heard the sobbing.
It was young and plaintive, and had no right to be in my room where everything was so happy. I stood up and looked around, and there in the corner crouched the translucent figure of a little girl. She was leaning back against the wall. Her thin legs were crossed in front of her, and she held the leg of a tattered toy elephant dejectedly in one hand and cried into the other. Her hair was long and dark, and it poured and tumbled over her face and shoulders.
I said, “What’s the matter, kiddo?” I hate to hear a child cry like that.
She cut herself off in the middle of a sob and shook the hair out of her eyes, looking up and past me, all fright and olive skin and big, filled violet eyes. “Oh!” she squeaked.
I repeated, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
She hugged the elephant to her breast defensively, and whimpered, “W-where are you?”
Surprised, I said, “Right here in front of you, child. Can’t you see me?”
She shook her head. “I’m scared. Who are you?”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I heard you crying, and I wanted to see if I could help you. Can’t you see me at all?”
“No,” she whispered. “Are you an angel?”
I guffawed. “By no means!” I stepped closer and put my hand on her shoulder. The hand went right through her and she winced and shrank away, uttering a little wordless cry. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean … you can’t see me at all? I can see you.”
She shook her head again. “I think you’re a ghost,” she said.
“Do tell!” I said. “And what are you?”
“I’m Ginny,” she said. “I have to stay here, and I have no one to play with.” She blinked, and there was a suspicion of further tears.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“I came here with my mother,” she said. “We lived in lots of other rooming houses. Mother cleaned floors in office buildings. But this is where I got so sick. I was sick a long time. Then one day I got off the bed and came over here, but then when I looked back I was still on the bed. It was awful funny. Some men came and put the ‘me’ that was on the bed onto a stretcher-thing and took it—me—out. After a while Mummy left, too. She cried for a long time before she left, and when I called to her she couldn’t hear me. She never came back, and I just got to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I got to. I—don’t know why. I just—got to.”
“What do you do here?”
“I just stay here and think about things. Once a lady lived here, had a little girl just like me. We used to play together until the lady watched us one day. She carried on somethin’ awful. She said her little girl was possessed. The girl kept callin’ me, ‘Ginny! Ginny! Tell Mamma you’re here!’; an’ I tried, but the lady couldn’t see me. Then the lady got scared an’ picked up her little girl an’ cried, an’ so I was sorry. I ran over here an’ hid, an’ after a while the other little girl forgot about me, I guess. They moved,” she finished with pathetic finality.
I was touched. “What will become of you, Ginny?”
“I dunno,” she said, and her voice was troubled. “I guess I’ll just stay here and wait for Mummy to come back. I been here a long time. I guess I deserve it, too.”
“Why, child?”
She looked guiltily at her shoes. “I couldn’ stand feelin’ so awful bad when I was sick. I got up out of bed before it was time. I shoulda stayed where I was. This is what I get for quittin’. But Mummy’ll be back; just you see.”
“Sure she will,” I muttered. My throat felt tight. “You take it easy, kid. Any time you want someone to talk to, you just pipe up. I’ll talk to you any time I’m around.”
She smiled and it was a pretty thing to see. What a raw deal for a kid! I grabbed my hat and went out.
Outside things were the same
It was young and plaintive, and had no right to be in my room where everything was so happy. I stood up and looked around, and there in the corner crouched the translucent figure of a little girl. She was leaning back against the wall. Her thin legs were crossed in front of her, and she held the leg of a tattered toy elephant dejectedly in one hand and cried into the other. Her hair was long and dark, and it poured and tumbled over her face and shoulders.
I said, “What’s the matter, kiddo?” I hate to hear a child cry like that.
She cut herself off in the middle of a sob and shook the hair out of her eyes, looking up and past me, all fright and olive skin and big, filled violet eyes. “Oh!” she squeaked.
I repeated, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
She hugged the elephant to her breast defensively, and whimpered, “W-where are you?”
Surprised, I said, “Right here in front of you, child. Can’t you see me?”
She shook her head. “I’m scared. Who are you?”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I heard you crying, and I wanted to see if I could help you. Can’t you see me at all?”
“No,” she whispered. “Are you an angel?”
I guffawed. “By no means!” I stepped closer and put my hand on her shoulder. The hand went right through her and she winced and shrank away, uttering a little wordless cry. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean … you can’t see me at all? I can see you.”
She shook her head again. “I think you’re a ghost,” she said.
“Do tell!” I said. “And what are you?”
“I’m Ginny,” she said. “I have to stay here, and I have no one to play with.” She blinked, and there was a suspicion of further tears.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“I came here with my mother,” she said. “We lived in lots of other rooming houses. Mother cleaned floors in office buildings. But this is where I got so sick. I was sick a long time. Then one day I got off the bed and came over here, but then when I looked back I was still on the bed. It was awful funny. Some men came and put the ‘me’ that was on the bed onto a stretcher-thing and took it—me—out. After a while Mummy left, too. She cried for a long time before she left, and when I called to her she couldn’t hear me. She never came back, and I just got to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I got to. I—don’t know why. I just—got to.”
“What do you do here?”
“I just stay here and think about things. Once a lady lived here, had a little girl just like me. We used to play together until the lady watched us one day. She carried on somethin’ awful. She said her little girl was possessed. The girl kept callin’ me, ‘Ginny! Ginny! Tell Mamma you’re here!’; an’ I tried, but the lady couldn’t see me. Then the lady got scared an’ picked up her little girl an’ cried, an’ so I was sorry. I ran over here an’ hid, an’ after a while the other little girl forgot about me, I guess. They moved,” she finished with pathetic finality.
I was touched. “What will become of you, Ginny?”
“I dunno,” she said, and her voice was troubled. “I guess I’ll just stay here and wait for Mummy to come back. I been here a long time. I guess I deserve it, too.”
“Why, child?”
She looked guiltily at her shoes. “I couldn’ stand feelin’ so awful bad when I was sick. I got up out of bed before it was time. I shoulda stayed where I was. This is what I get for quittin’. But Mummy’ll be back; just you see.”
“Sure she will,” I muttered. My throat felt tight. “You take it easy, kid. Any time you want someone to talk to, you just pipe up. I’ll talk to you any time I’m around.”
She smiled and it was a pretty thing to see. What a raw deal for a kid! I grabbed my hat and went out.
Outside things were the same
Similar Books
