“I can—when I want to,” she answered, “I—move something in the back of my head. An’ then I see colours that aren’t there—before that. An’ then I hear what they say—sometimes,” said the child; “they make me laugh so! But I can’t ’member what it was for. An’ I can hear music sometimes—an’ when flowers don’t smell at all I—do that way to the back of my head an’ then the flowers are all ’fumery. I always try if other people can do that to flowers. You couldn’t, you know.”
“No,” I said, “we couldn’t.”
“No,” said the child, with her little sigh of resignation, “nobody can. But I fink my papa could. Well, an’ it’s Them that Halverson is with. She—I think she is ’em. An’ she says for me to come an’ be ’em, too—an’ she’ll hev to be me then; ’cause it isn’t time yet. An’ she’ll do the practicin’ an’ come in for tea when mamma’s company’s there. She says she’s sorry for me an’ she don’t mind bein’ saw for a while. Would you go?”
“But how would you do it, dear—how could you do it?” I asked, thinking that the practicality would bring her to the actualities.
“O,” said Margaret, simply, “I fink I would just have to move that in the back of my head long enough. Sometimes I ’most have—but I was ’fraid an’ I came back. Something ...” said the child, “something slips past each other in the back of my head when I want to....”
She threw her head against my breast and closed her eyes.
“Pelleas!” I cried, “O, Pelleas—take her! Let us get her in the house—quick.”
She opened her eyes as his arms folded about her to lift her.
“Don’t go so very fast,” she besought sleepily; “Halverson can’t go so very fast.”
My summons at the door of Mrs. Trempleau’s apartment brought no reply. Finally I turned the knob and we entered. The outer room was in darkness, but beyond a light was burning and there was Margaret’s bed, its pillow already pressed as if the little head had been there earlier in the evening. Pelleas laid her down tenderly and she did not open her eyes as I rearranged the covers. But when we would have moved a little away she spoke in her clear, childish treble.