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BABY DOLL!
Stupid old thing— forgot to light the stove. She opens the ice-box for lemons. Git me a Frigidaire one of these days. The pan under the ice-box has overflowed and is swamping the floor. Got to empty that pan.
Pulls it from under refrigerator with a grunt. A sound catches her ear, a sharp, slapping sound. She loo\s up anxiously, but the sound is not repeated. She takes out lemons, leaves ice-box door hanging open. All her movements are fumbling and weak* She \eeps rubbing her perspiring hands on her hips. She starts to cut lemon, the hjiife slips and cuts her finger. She looks at the finger. It looks all right at first, then a drop of blood appears. She whimpers a little. The blood increases. She begins to cry li\e a baby.
She ma\es a vague, anxious movement. Again the slapping sound followed by a soft human sound like a chuckle. She looks that way. Cocks her head. But the sound is not repeated. Still squeezing the cut finger she begins to wander toward the front of the house. CAMERA PANS WITH BABY DOLL AS SHE WANDERS THROUGH HOUSE. She passes through a bare huge room with a dusty chandelier. It was the dining room when the house belonged to the old plantation owners. She whimpers under her breath, squeezing the bleeding finger. Now the blood is running down the hand to the wrist and down the wrist to the forearm and trickling into the soft hollow of her elbow. She groans and whimpers at the sight of the great flight of stairs, but starts up them. Halfway up, at the landing, she hears the slapping sound again and the faunlike mocking laughter. She
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