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in the alcove.  Looking in and seeing me, she at once decided that I was there on purpose to listen.  It seems incredible that she should have believed a small, sleepy child of six capable of interest in her psychic researchers, but her unreasonableness even went as far as to order me to move the huge wardrobe to discover whether I could have escaped from the room by that way.  It is needless to sat that, despite my efforts, the wardrobe remained firmly in its place.

It was not long after this happened that I began watching my mother, and my observations became more objective in character.

I remember standing before a mirror supporting her arm in order to ease its weight as she stuck a long pin into her hat perched high on a structure of curls.  The arm was heavy, but presently I found diversion looking at my mother's image in the mirror.  It was evident that the hand was automatically directing the pin, for the raised eyes were fixed far above and beyond the hat, reflecting in their transparency some vision of colorless light.  The hand at last fell down, but the eyes remained still focussed above, unconscious of the moment, unwilling to return.

Though this glimpse of my mother's flight into space was fearful in itself, her return to earth could seem to me even more alarming.