cylinder, or half of a box. Adam fingered it. Whatever it was it came from above and as he looked up he heard Jane whisper, “It’s a private telephone. I made it myself. You put it to your ear to listen and to your mouth to speak.”
Adam did so, and heard her say, “It’s Jane. Can you hear me? Keep the string pulled tight, or else it won’t work.”
“Yes, I can.”
“What did they say about me?”
“That you were tired and had a headache and went to bed early.”
“It isn’t true! I’m locked in my room again. They sent me to bed without any supper.”
“Oh no!” said Adam.
“What is it?” Mopsy asked. “Can I hear, too?”
Adam put the cylinder to Mopsy’s ear. “Mopsy’s listening now,” he said.
“Oh, Mopsy, I’m so miserable! I haven’t had anything to eat and Peter’s pinched me until I’m black and blue.”
“Adam,” Mopsy cried, “this is terrible! They’re starving and torturing her.”
Adam took the instrument again, even though they could hear one another whispering quite clearly without it, but somehow it was more exciting to use it. “Jane,” he cried, “I’m so sorry! What happened?”
“They tried to make me tell them how you did the trick with the egg and I couldn’t. They said I must know, because every magician tells his assistant. Then they got very angry and said I shouldn’t have any supper and Peter pinched me and twisted my arm. Oh please, please, tell me Adam! They’ll be cross again in the morning and I’m scared.”
“Poor Jane, it’s all my fault! But you needn’t be frightened any longer. It’s all right, I’ve told them how it was done.”
“After I tried to stop him, of course,” Mopsy put in. “Luckily they didn’t believe him.”
“Then tell me too, just in case.”
“But you already know,” Adam said. “It was just like the rose, or Fussmer’s teeth. Magic. The only kind I seem to know how to do. Not very clever but . . .”
Adam suddenly felt the cylinder of the string telephone yanked sharply from his fingers as it vanished upwards. Then he heard Jane begin to cry.
“Jane, what is it?” he called. “Don’t go away.”
She sobbed, “You and your old magic!” And then she mimicked his voice, “The simple kind. You won’t help me. They’ll be at me again tomorrow.”
Adam said, “Jane, please! I promise you they won’t.” Then he asked, “Would you like me to do you some supper? I could have something up there for you in a jiffy.”
“No, no! Leave me alone! Go away!” and she slammed her window.
“The poor thing,” said Mopsy, “I told you there was something fishy about that windbag, her father, and that lie about the headache. What are we going to do?”
“Hush,” said Adam. “Go to sleep. I’ll try to think up something.” For a long time after he lay in the darkness and thought he could still hear her weeping above.
XII
T HE P ECULIAR P ICNIC
B ut the following day did not turn out at all the way any of them had anticipated. Instead of further trouble and complications, Jane, Adam and Mopsy found themselves packed off by the Roberts for a picnic lunch in the country. And thus, at noon, Jane carrying the picnic basket and Adam with Mopsy trotting beside him were starting down the hill of the cobbled street, bound for the city’s gate. Yet the relationship between the three was not what it had been before.
Jane walked along silently, her eyes cast down. Adam thought that perhaps she was still angry with him because of what had happened the previous night. He had no idea of the task that had been put upon her, or how heavy her heart lay within her.
Mopsy, too, was more quiet than usual, except that as they set out he had remarked, “I’ll bet there’s something funny about this picnic.”
“Funny ha-ha?” Adam had asked.
“No, funny peculiar.”
A little later he muttered, “Don’t say anything, but I’ve had a sniff at the basket. Pooey!” And to Adam’s query as to what
Adam did so, and heard her say, “It’s Jane. Can you hear me? Keep the string pulled tight, or else it won’t work.”
“Yes, I can.”
“What did they say about me?”
“That you were tired and had a headache and went to bed early.”
“It isn’t true! I’m locked in my room again. They sent me to bed without any supper.”
“Oh no!” said Adam.
“What is it?” Mopsy asked. “Can I hear, too?”
Adam put the cylinder to Mopsy’s ear. “Mopsy’s listening now,” he said.
“Oh, Mopsy, I’m so miserable! I haven’t had anything to eat and Peter’s pinched me until I’m black and blue.”
“Adam,” Mopsy cried, “this is terrible! They’re starving and torturing her.”
Adam took the instrument again, even though they could hear one another whispering quite clearly without it, but somehow it was more exciting to use it. “Jane,” he cried, “I’m so sorry! What happened?”
“They tried to make me tell them how you did the trick with the egg and I couldn’t. They said I must know, because every magician tells his assistant. Then they got very angry and said I shouldn’t have any supper and Peter pinched me and twisted my arm. Oh please, please, tell me Adam! They’ll be cross again in the morning and I’m scared.”
“Poor Jane, it’s all my fault! But you needn’t be frightened any longer. It’s all right, I’ve told them how it was done.”
“After I tried to stop him, of course,” Mopsy put in. “Luckily they didn’t believe him.”
“Then tell me too, just in case.”
“But you already know,” Adam said. “It was just like the rose, or Fussmer’s teeth. Magic. The only kind I seem to know how to do. Not very clever but . . .”
Adam suddenly felt the cylinder of the string telephone yanked sharply from his fingers as it vanished upwards. Then he heard Jane begin to cry.
“Jane, what is it?” he called. “Don’t go away.”
She sobbed, “You and your old magic!” And then she mimicked his voice, “The simple kind. You won’t help me. They’ll be at me again tomorrow.”
Adam said, “Jane, please! I promise you they won’t.” Then he asked, “Would you like me to do you some supper? I could have something up there for you in a jiffy.”
“No, no! Leave me alone! Go away!” and she slammed her window.
“The poor thing,” said Mopsy, “I told you there was something fishy about that windbag, her father, and that lie about the headache. What are we going to do?”
“Hush,” said Adam. “Go to sleep. I’ll try to think up something.” For a long time after he lay in the darkness and thought he could still hear her weeping above.
XII
T HE P ECULIAR P ICNIC
B ut the following day did not turn out at all the way any of them had anticipated. Instead of further trouble and complications, Jane, Adam and Mopsy found themselves packed off by the Roberts for a picnic lunch in the country. And thus, at noon, Jane carrying the picnic basket and Adam with Mopsy trotting beside him were starting down the hill of the cobbled street, bound for the city’s gate. Yet the relationship between the three was not what it had been before.
Jane walked along silently, her eyes cast down. Adam thought that perhaps she was still angry with him because of what had happened the previous night. He had no idea of the task that had been put upon her, or how heavy her heart lay within her.
Mopsy, too, was more quiet than usual, except that as they set out he had remarked, “I’ll bet there’s something funny about this picnic.”
“Funny ha-ha?” Adam had asked.
“No, funny peculiar.”
A little later he muttered, “Don’t say anything, but I’ve had a sniff at the basket. Pooey!” And to Adam’s query as to what
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