It was a beautiful doll house. Only one-story high, but quite elaborate, and with a roof that lifted off so one could rearrange the furniture and move the dolls from room to room. It scaled well with the manikins Uncle Richard had brought.
Aubrey was rapturous. All her other playthings went into eclipse and the doings of the Geezenstacks occupied most of her waking thoughts.
It wasn’t for quite a while that Sam Walters began to notice, and to think about, the strange aspect of the doings of the Geezenstacks. At first, with a quiet chuckle at the coincidences that followed one another.
And then, with a puzzled look in his eyes.
It wasn’t until quite a while later that he got Richard off into a corner. The four of them had just returned from a play. He said, “Uh—Dick.”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“These dolls, Dick. Where did you get them?”
Richard’s eyes stared at him blankly. “What do you mean, Sam? I told you where I got them.”
“Yes, but—you weren’t kidding, or anything? I mean, maybe you bought them for Aubrey, and thought we’d object if you gave her such an expensive present, so you—uh—”
“No, honest, I didn’t.”
“But dammit, Dick, they couldn’t have fallen out of a window, or dropped out, and not broken. They’re wax. Couldn’t someone walking behind you—or going by in an auto or something—?”
“There wasn’t anyone around, Sam. Nobody at all. I’ve wondered about it myself. But if I was lying, I wouldn’t make up a screwy story like that, would I? I’d just say I found them on a park bench or a seat in a movie. But why are you curious?”
“I—uh—I just got to wondering.”
Sam Walters kept on wondering, too.
They were little things, most of them. Like the time Aubrey had said, “Papa Geezenstack didn’t go to work this morning. He’s in bed, sick.”
“So?” Sam had asked. “And what is wrong with the gentleman?”
“Something he ate, I guess.”
And the next morning, at breakfast, “And how is Mr. Geezenstack, Aubrey?”
“A little better, but he isn’t going to work today yet, the doctor said. Tomorrow, maybe.”
And the next day, Mr. Geezenstack went back to work. That, as it happened, was the day Sam Walters came home feeling quite ill, as a result of something he’d eaten for lunch. Yes, he’d missed two days from work. The first time he’d missed work on account of illness in several years.
And some things were quicker than that, and some slower. You couldn’t put your finger on it and say, “Well, if this happens to the Geezenstacks, it will happen to us in twenty-four hours.” Sometimes it was less than an hour. Sometimes as long as a week.
“Mama and Papa Geezenstack had a quarrel today.”
And Sam had tried to avoid that quarrel with Edith, but it seemed he just couldn’t. He’d been quite late getting home, through no fault of his own. It had happened often, but this time Edith took exception. Soft answers failed to turn away wrath, and at last he’d lost his own temper.
“Uncle Geezenstack is going away for a visit.” Richard hadn’t been out of town for years, but the next week he took a sudden notion to run down to New York. “Pete and Amy, you know. Got a letter from them asking me—”
“When?” Sam asked, almost sharply. “When did you get the letter?”
“Yesterday.”
“Then last week you weren’t— This sounds like a silly question, Dick, but last week were you thinking about going anywhere? Did you say anything to—to anyone about the possibility of your visiting someone?”
“Lord, no. Hadn’t even thought about Pete and Amy for months, till I got their letter yesterday. Want me to stay a week.”
“You’ll be back in three days—maybe,” Sam had said. He wouldn’t explain, even when Richard did come back in three days. It sounded just too damn silly to say that he’d known how long Richard was going to be gone, because that was how long Uncle Geezenstack had been away.
Sam Walters began to watch his daughter, and to wonder. She, of course, was the one who made the Geezenstacks do whatever they did. Was it possible that Aubrey had some strange preternatural insight which caused her, unconsciously, to predict things that were going to happen to the Walters and to Richard?
He didn’t, of course, believe in clairvoyance. But was Aubrey clairvoyant?
“Mrs. Geezenstack’s going shopping today. She’s going to buy a new coat.”
That one almost sounded like a put-up job. Edith had smiled at Aubrey and then looked at Sam. “That reminds me, Sam. Tomorrow I’ll be downtown, and there’s a sale at—”
“But, Edith, these are war times. And you don’t need a coat.”
He’d argued so earnestly that he made himself late for work. Arguing uphill, because he really could afford the coat and she really hadn’t bought one for two years. But he couldn’t explain that the real reason he didn’t want her to buy one was that Mrs. Geezen— Why, it was too silly to say, even to himself.
Edith bought the coat.
Strange, Sam thought, that nobody else noticed those coincidences. But Richard wasn’t around all the time, and Edith—well, Edith had the knack of listening to Aubrey’s prattle without hearing nine-tenths of it.
“Aubrey Geezenstack brought home her report card today, Papa. She got ninety in arithmetic and eighty in spelling and—”
And two days later, Sam was calling up the headmaster of the school. Calling from a paystation, of course, so nobody would hear him.
“Mr. Bradley, I’d like to ask a question that I have a—uh—rather peculiar, but important, reason for asking. Would it be possible for a student at your school to know in advance exactly what grades…”
No, not possible. The teachers themselves didn’t know, until they’d figured averages, and that hadn’t been done until the morning the report cards were made out and sent home. Yes, yesterday morning, while the children had their play period.
“Sam,” Richard said, “you’re looking kind of seedy. Business worries? Look, things are going to get better from now on, and with your company, you got nothing to worry about anyway.”
“That isn’t it, Dick. It—I mean, there isn’t anything I’m worrying about. Not exactly. I mean—” And he’d had to wriggle out of the cross-examination by inventing a worry or two for Richard to talk him out of.
He thought about the Geezenstacks a lot. Too much. If only he’d been superstitious, or credulous, it might not have been so bad. But he wasn’t. That’s why each succeeding coincidence hit him a little harder than the last.
Edith and her brother noticed it, and talked about it when Sam wasn’t around.
“He has been acting queer lately, Dick. I’m—I’m really worried. He acts so— Do you think we could talk him into seeing a doctor or a—”
“A psychiatrist? Um, if we could. But I can’t see him doing it, Edith. Something’s eating him, and I’ve tried to pump him about it, but he won’t open up. Y’know—I think it’s got something to do with those damn dolls.”
“Dolls? You mean Aubrey’s dolls? The ones you gave her?”
“Yes, the Geezenstacks. He sits and stares at the doll house. I’ve heard him ask the kid questions about them, and he was serious. I think he’s got some delusion or something about them. Or centering on them.”
“But, Dick, that’s—awful.”
“Look, Edie, Aubrey isn’t as interested in them as she used to be, and— Is there anything she wants very badly?”
“Dancing lessons. But she’s already studying violin and I don’t think we can let her—”
“Do you think if you promised her dancing lessons if she gave up those dolls, she’d be willing? I think we’ve got to get them out of the apartment. And I don’t want to hurt Aubrey, so—”