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“Well, I may not be as good a storyteller as your sister, but I’m no slouch,” Mr. Barnum said hastily, catching a glimpse of my face as I busied myself with arranging a bowl of forget-me-nots on the windowsill; it was spring now in Middleborough. Life was bursting out all around us: flowers and tender grass and birds singing, newborn calves, foals, the first sprouts of Mama’s kitchen garden. Sometimes I felt hopeful; with all the vigor and optimism of the season, how could Minnie not survive her upcoming ordeal? Surely the same pulse, the same spirit that carried the scent of new-mown hay through her window, always open now so that she might hear the birds, would see her through, safe and sound?

Other times, when I heard her moan softly as she sought a comfortable position, as I watched Dr. Feinway’s increasingly grave countenance when he left her room (he came every two weeks, arranged by Mr. Barnum), I felt the cruelty of the season. It wasn’t fair! Life should not come so easily to the dumb creatures of nature, when my own sister did not have the same chance.

“Have I told you about my elephant?” Mr. Barnum asked Minnie. She shook her head, her curls—dull now, changed like the rest of her—ruffling her pillow. I pulled up a chair on the other side of her; both of our faces turned, like flowers to the sun, to Mr. Barnum as he began his tale.

“Jumbo is his name,” he said, shifting about uncomfortably in his tiny chair, still unaware of its proportions. “Well, he’s not mine yet—but he will be! He’s in a zoo in London now; he was found as a baby in the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa. He’s the biggest animal of his kind, I’d swear it! Well, between you and me, I wouldn’t exactly swear it in a court of law, but I’m confident the public won’t hold me to that. He’s really a stunner—his legs are ten feet high! One of my giants could easily pass under him! Yet he’s the gentlest animal soul I’ve ever seen; right smart he is, they say. He can count to three by stomping his foot, and when he does, the whole earth quakes! Minnie, I would love to see you curled up in his trunk; he loves to cradle things. One time at the zoo, one of the monkeys was missing, and finally they found him sleeping in Jumbo’s trunk, that elephant rocking him back and forth just like a baby!”

“No!” Minnie exclaimed breathlessly. “Didn’t he hurt the poor monkey?”

“Not a bit! Gentlest animal ever—they even let children ride him! Some of those elephants can get pretty ornery, but not Jumbo. Shh, don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m planning on buying him and bringing him over here. I can build an entire circus around him. I’ll put him in a special train car, bright red with his name in big yellow letters, so that when we come to town he’s the first thing folks want to see!”

“Oh, I’d love to see him. Can I? Can we, Vinnie?”

I believe, at that moment, Minnie had forgotten her condition; she was a girl again, about to embark upon a new adventure with me. I was so grateful to Mr. Barnum for giving her that moment of respite, for I knew, despite her cheerfulness, she was worried about her confinement. If I couldn’t talk to her about it, Mama could, at least a little; I overheard Minnie asking her once how much it would hurt. Mama told her only about as much as it hurt to have a tooth out, but that she’d forget about it the moment it was over and she held her baby for the first time. Yet when Mama left the room, she broke down sobbing in my arms, and I heard Minnie crying softly in her bed.

Mr. Barnum proceeded to tell her more stories about Jumbo; he had that same light in his eyes he used to have when he spoke of Jenny Lind, and I smiled to think of how jealous I had once been of her! Now I knew that Mr. Barnum was like a child in his affections: The newest toy was always his favorite. And Jenny Lind was across the ocean, matronly and married; Jumbo was in his zoo. I was right here, and I always had been. As I always would be.

Minnie was growing weary. She slept a lot now;