" 'Yankie pokie. Yankie fun, how do you like your tattles done?'
" 'First in brandy, then in rum, that's how I like my taffies done.' "
She clapped her hands and laughed.
We heard some footsteps on a stairway and a door slam. "We'd better get out of here," Cinnamon said.
"We have to go," I told Gerta. "Maybe we'll come back to see you."'
"Come back, come back, oh come back," she sang.
We walked into the bedroom and to the window. She followed and watched us 20 out and onto the landing.
"Be careful." Cinnamon whispered to me as I started down the ladder.
They all began to follow.
"Good night," we heard from the window. "'Good night, sweet prince.' "
"She's very confused. She's liable to follow us," Rose cautioned.
"Go back inside," Cinnamon called up to her. ''Go on. Close the window."
We waited to see what she would do.
"Lemon," she cried, and slammed the window shut.
I was down the ladder in seconds and moments later in my room, the others right behind.
"I have a little experience around mental patients," Cinnamon said when we settled down. "That's a case and a half up there."
"What's wrong with her? She looks like someone about thirty, doesn't she?" Rose asked.
"Yes, but she's a child. mentally."
"And yet, she comes out with the most amazing things," I said. "Those were lines from Shakespearean plays she quoted, weren't they?"
"Yes," Cinnamon said.
It's lik
e something's trapped her in her mind as well as up in that apartment," Ice mused.
"What should we do?" Rose asked.
"Forget about her," Ice said quickly. She looked at Cinnamon. "Right?"
"I can't help feeling sorry for her," I said.
Cinnamon's eyes widened when she looked at me. She nodded.
"When my mother was trapped in her mental dungeon, locked up by all her unhappiness. I felt so helpless, so ineffective. I had to humor her when all I wanted to do was shout. 'Mommy. You lost the baby. There is no baby. You've got to stop this ridiculous pretending and come back to us.' I knew, however, she wouldn't have heard me. She would have just smiled at me as if I was the one who was disturbed."
"Why doesn't Madame Senetsky try to get her help instead of keeping her lacked in up there?" Rose wondered, gazing toward the ceiling. "And why tell Honey that her daughter died long ago?"
"Apparently, she's not only telling Honey. Don't forget about the obituary," Ice reminded her.
"But why?"