She spoke very convincingly. It almost sounded as if Jinny were already lying broken and lifeless on the cruel rocks, and as a consequence, they all felt much better. Then suddenly a piercing scream from the bedroom above them made them look up. Again came the scream — and again, a tremolo of horror that made the cut glass chandelier tinkle timorously.
Hope sprang in Marion’s eyes.
“The mushrooms!” she exclaimed.
“Dash it!” Bert said. “She’ll wake the whole neighborhood. Can’t she die quietly?”
Screams from above continued to indicate that she couldn’t.
“Amanita virosa!” Marion exclaimed, with awe. “Why that’s the name I couldn’t think of. It... it just came to me. No mushroom is deadlier.”
There was another scream.
“We’ll have to go up,” Marion told them. “Mr. Downey is sure to have heard her by now. Come on, Dick.”
She and Dick ran up the stairs and flung open Jinny’s door. Jinny was sitting up in bed, her hands pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle another scream.
“Jinny!” Marion hurried to her. “What is it? Do you feel bad?”
Jinny shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“No pain?” Marion was eager, rather than solicitous.
“It was — another nightmare. The... the worst of all.”
They heard a window go up. A voice called, “Hello! Anything wrong over there?”
“That you, Mr. Downey?” Dick stepped to Jinny’s window. “Jinny had another nightmare, that’s all. She’s all right now.”
“Oh,” Mr. Downey said. “Oh.”
The window went down again. Dick came back and sat on the side of the bed, holding Jinny’s soft hand in his.
“Tell us about it, Jinny,” he urged. “That’s the best way to get over it.”
Jinny’s breathing was more normal now. She flushed delicately, and tried to pull the sheet up around her.
“It was — so real,” she said. “I was in a great, dark room, in some strange old house all tumbling down and full of shadows. And the shadows suddenly came to life and started creeping toward me. There was a terribly high ceiling and down from the darkness came a rope. It had a noose in the end of it. And the shadows all pushed me toward the noose and I knew they wanted me to put it around my neck, and they pushed closer and closer until I couldn’t breathe. Then all of a sudden the noose twisted itself right around my throat and... and—”
She gasped and began to tremble. Marion produced a pill and a glass of water.
“Take this, Jinny,” she said. “Get some sleep. It was just a dream, that’s all.”
“Yes, of course,” Jinny whispered. “Just a — dream. Thank you, Marion.”
She took the pill, drank, lay back on the pillow. Dick gave her hand a little squeeze.
“See you in the morning, Jinny.”
He went out softly. And Marion and Bert followed him on tiptoe, like loving parents leaving the side of their sleeping child.
It was a perfect summer morning. The horoscope in the daily paper said, “Today is a good day for carrying out projects you have been putting off.” Bert, who always read the horoscopes, showed it to Marion.
“Yes, we’ve waited too long,” Marion said, and frowned. “We’ll finish this thing up today. Jinny’s nightmare last night has given us just the opportunity we need.” She reached for the phone.
“Hello,” she said to the operator. “I want to make a long distance call to Boston. Person to person to Dr. M. J. Brewer. He’s a famous psychiatrist. I don’t know his address, but I’m sure you’ll be able to locate him. It’s very important... Yes, call me back.”
She hung up and turned to Bert.
“I already phoned Dr. Barnes,” she said. “Told him about Jinny’s nightmares and said I was dreadfully worried. He suggested Brewer. I’ll make an appointment with Brewer and explain all about Jinny’s fits of depression and the time she took too many sleeping pills—”
“When was that?” Bert asked.
“Don’t be tiresome, Bert. The thing is, the child is melancholy, subject to depression, thinks of suicide. After all the buildup I gave the call, the operator is sure to listen in and spread the story. So will Mrs. Graves and Miss Bernham, on the party line — I heard their receivers picked up. Jinny is over now apologizing to Mr. Downey for waking him up last night. By evening the whole town will know about Jinny’s dream, her suicidal tendencies, instability, everything. Then this afternoon, for the picnic, we’ll go to Black Point. You know the old house in the woods there?”
“Yes,” Bert nodded. “What about it?”
“Why, it will be the most natural thing in the world — oh, there’s the phone... Hello? Dr. Brewer?... Dr. Brewer, it’s urgent that I make an appointment with you for as soon as possible. You see—”
The Farringtons were a rather attractive family, especially on an occasion such as this, all of them off to a picnic.
Marion had packed a hamper with food, and Bert had packed a small hamper with wine and other drinks. Dick drove the car far out on the lonely cliffs to the region known as Black Point. The evergreens grew tall with cathedral-like shade and quiet beneath them. Dick helped Jinny tenderly over the rough spots. His fingers caressed her bare arms as he helped her sit down on the edge of the rocky cliff, in the sunshine, the Atlantic combers crashing on the rocks far below. Sea gulls screamed; there was a smell of salt spray in the air. Jinny breathed deeply.
“It smells so fresh and clean,” she whispered. “It makes me forget all about last night — that horrible nightmare—” Her eyes clouded, but Dick’s admiring gaze brought her good spirits back. “But there, I’m not going to talk about it any more. Let’s eat. I’m starved!”
They ate. Bert told humorous stories of his travels in Europe, neglecting to mention that he had been in Europe because of an embezzlement in the U.S.A. Marion was witty, and her stories about the townspeople were also malicious. Dick sat close beside Jinny and held her hand whenever he could, leaning close to her and whispering in her ear from time to time that she was lovely. Jinny flushed, and her eyes laughed, and she looked more than ever like a child on the happiest day of her life.
The sun sank behind the pines. Shadows grew longer. A chill seeped into the air.
“Why don’t you two take a walk?” Marion asked. “Bert and I will clean up.”
Dick was on his feet at once, helping Jinny.
“Come along,” he said gaily. “We’ll explore.”
Laughing, Jinny allowed herself to be drawn along. Dick slipped her small hand into his large hand.
“Glorious day,” he said with a wide gesture. “Enjoying it?”
“Oh, yes. Except that — looking at the sea — made me think of Alice.”
“I know.” Dick looked solemn. “She loved the sea — too much. Couldn’t keep her out of the water.”
“Did you love her very much, Dick?” Jinny asked.
“Very much indeed,” Dick said, nodding. “They were the happiest three weeks of my life. Then — she was taken from me.”
“She loved you, too,” Jinny told him. “You should have seen her face when she told me she was going to marry you. It was transformed. She couldn’t imagine what you saw in her. She was so plain.”
“Plain?” Dick was indignant. “I never thought of her as plain. To me she was lovely, lovely...”
“I always thought she was rather dull,” Jinny said ingenuously. “All she could do was swim. She couldn’t talk well and she didn’t like books or music or—”
“Please, Jinny!” Dick’s voice was suddenly brusque. “You forget that we were in love. It upsets me to talk about her. I still — miss her terribly, terribly...”