Read Online Earthly Astonishments by Marthe Jocelyn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marthe Jocelyn
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“How does anyone know that crackedy old stick came from George Washington’s chopped-down cherry tree?”
“Because Mr. Walters tells them so! Along with the rest of his flummery.”
On an ebony pedestal, there was a mounted cat with only one leg.
“It was supposedly born that way,” said Charley, in a vicious whisper. “But I swear that Mr. Walters cut off the other three legs.”
“That’s just plain horrible,” said Josephine. “And so is that.” She stared at the tattooed hand of a Maori chieftain preserved in brine.
There was a hat that once belonged to former President Ulysses S. Grant and the handcuffs that had escorted the famous bank robber Paddy Parker to prison.
“‘A feather from the pillow of Queen Victoria herself’?” Josephine laughed so hard that Charley had to put her down.
“You have to believe, once you’re in here,” explained Charley. “You’d feel an almighty fool if you paid twenty-fivecents and thought the feather came from the goose around the corner!”
Despite his promise to Josephine that he would exhibit her beyond the reach of curious fingers, Mr. Walters had not seemed inclined to spend money on a special platform. But clever Nelly had convinced him.
“Surely the customers will think she’s something more than humdrum if you put her up there like a wee princess. You’ve paid so many dollars on her clothes and shoes, it’d be a shame not to show her off to the best advantage.”
“Hmmm.” Mr. Walters chewed on his whiskers. “Maybe you’ve got something there, Nelly O’Dooley.” He agreed reluctantly. “If you weren’t a woman, you’d make a fine businessman.”
The platform stood five feet off the floor, with a wooden ladder at one end for Josephine to get up and down. Mr. Walters had decorated it using furniture samples made smaller for the convenience of traveling salesmen.
“Just as you requested, my dear,” said Mr. Walters to Josephine, early on the first morning. “Go on up and try it out.”
Josephine hitched up her swirling satin skirt and climbed the tiny ladder with the ease of a sailor. She stroked the doll’s flowered tea set, laid out on the little table. “I’ve never had things my own size! Oh, Mr. Walters! Thank you!”
Mr. Walters watched her sit on the chair, with his eyebrows dipped in a frown.
“It’s not right,” he declared finally. “It’s the wrong approach entirely.”
Josephine’s heart sank. Mr. Walters looked around for one of the workmen, who was dabbing paint over the winter’s stains and blisters.
“Ippy. Take these little things and put them in storage until that salesman comes through this way again. I’ll get my money back. And I need a big chair instead. A very big chair. Big enough for
me
to sink into. Do you understand? Now!”
Ippy’s left eye twitched as he slunk off with a hopeless curve to his shoulders. But within an hour, he returned, balancing an enormous armchair on a wagon. It took three men and a symphony of grunting to get it atop the platform, but they managed.
Josephine’s chair was now big enough to swallow her, which was just the effect that Mr. Walters wanted to emphasize. She was, after all, the world’s smallest girl.
At the warning bell, the Astonishments took their places along the main promenade, with Josephine overseeing it all from her lofty perch.
When the doors swung open, the morning sunshine spilled only a few feet into the mysterious interior of Walters Hall. Folks were lined up outside, maybe fifty or more. Mr. Walters was rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“The petticoats are paid for already!” he gloated. His advertisement in the newspapers had made Little Jo-Jo the main attraction of opening day.
A noisy herd of sweating patrons pushed into the gallery. Their feet thumped on the wooden floor as they rushed past the exhibits by the entrance, seeking Little Jo-Jo in the place of honor on the back wall.
A secret ripple of pleasure made her shiver as
“Because Mr. Walters tells them so! Along with the rest of his flummery.”
On an ebony pedestal, there was a mounted cat with only one leg.
“It was supposedly born that way,” said Charley, in a vicious whisper. “But I swear that Mr. Walters cut off the other three legs.”
“That’s just plain horrible,” said Josephine. “And so is that.” She stared at the tattooed hand of a Maori chieftain preserved in brine.
There was a hat that once belonged to former President Ulysses S. Grant and the handcuffs that had escorted the famous bank robber Paddy Parker to prison.
“‘A feather from the pillow of Queen Victoria herself’?” Josephine laughed so hard that Charley had to put her down.
“You have to believe, once you’re in here,” explained Charley. “You’d feel an almighty fool if you paid twenty-fivecents and thought the feather came from the goose around the corner!”
Despite his promise to Josephine that he would exhibit her beyond the reach of curious fingers, Mr. Walters had not seemed inclined to spend money on a special platform. But clever Nelly had convinced him.
“Surely the customers will think she’s something more than humdrum if you put her up there like a wee princess. You’ve paid so many dollars on her clothes and shoes, it’d be a shame not to show her off to the best advantage.”
“Hmmm.” Mr. Walters chewed on his whiskers. “Maybe you’ve got something there, Nelly O’Dooley.” He agreed reluctantly. “If you weren’t a woman, you’d make a fine businessman.”
The platform stood five feet off the floor, with a wooden ladder at one end for Josephine to get up and down. Mr. Walters had decorated it using furniture samples made smaller for the convenience of traveling salesmen.
“Just as you requested, my dear,” said Mr. Walters to Josephine, early on the first morning. “Go on up and try it out.”
Josephine hitched up her swirling satin skirt and climbed the tiny ladder with the ease of a sailor. She stroked the doll’s flowered tea set, laid out on the little table. “I’ve never had things my own size! Oh, Mr. Walters! Thank you!”
Mr. Walters watched her sit on the chair, with his eyebrows dipped in a frown.
“It’s not right,” he declared finally. “It’s the wrong approach entirely.”
Josephine’s heart sank. Mr. Walters looked around for one of the workmen, who was dabbing paint over the winter’s stains and blisters.
“Ippy. Take these little things and put them in storage until that salesman comes through this way again. I’ll get my money back. And I need a big chair instead. A very big chair. Big enough for
me
to sink into. Do you understand? Now!”
Ippy’s left eye twitched as he slunk off with a hopeless curve to his shoulders. But within an hour, he returned, balancing an enormous armchair on a wagon. It took three men and a symphony of grunting to get it atop the platform, but they managed.
Josephine’s chair was now big enough to swallow her, which was just the effect that Mr. Walters wanted to emphasize. She was, after all, the world’s smallest girl.
At the warning bell, the Astonishments took their places along the main promenade, with Josephine overseeing it all from her lofty perch.
When the doors swung open, the morning sunshine spilled only a few feet into the mysterious interior of Walters Hall. Folks were lined up outside, maybe fifty or more. Mr. Walters was rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“The petticoats are paid for already!” he gloated. His advertisement in the newspapers had made Little Jo-Jo the main attraction of opening day.
A noisy herd of sweating patrons pushed into the gallery. Their feet thumped on the wooden floor as they rushed past the exhibits by the entrance, seeking Little Jo-Jo in the place of honor on the back wall.
A secret ripple of pleasure made her shiver as
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