• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“It was not a rowboat,” I replied, struggling not to smile, for I knew he was but toying with us. “It was a floating palace of curiosities, and a very popular one at that.”

“Run by a cousin of yours, I understand?”

“Yes, Colonel Wood, a cousin of mine. That was the only reason we let Lavinia go with him,” Mama interjected, her forehead wrinkling in concern and puzzlement.

“Cousin.” Mr. Barnum snorted dismissively. “Be that as it may, I assure you that what I am offering Miss Bump is much more than a lazy ride up the Mississippi in some rickety boat. But, of course, I’m no cousin. Just a humble farmer’s son from Connecticut—no descendent of the Mayflower.”

“Well, now, I’m a farmer myself.” Papa stirred uncomfortably. “I can’t fault a man for being that!”

“No, of course not, that’s not at all what I meant.” Mama, more flustered than I’d ever seen her, frowned down at her hands.

“My poor father died when I was but a lad, and I had to care for my mother and sisters, so I was not able to have the kind of education I’m sure the Warrens of Massachusetts were able to provide for their sons,” Mr. Barnum continued, his face so serious but his eyes so close to merry. I was the only one who saw them, however; my parents were too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“Well, it’s not as if we were able to send our boys to Harvard, either,” Papa said agreeably. “They’re farmers, too, the ones who aren’t off fighting.”

“Fighting for our grand Union?” Mr. Barnum’s voice now filled with musical emotion—fifes and drums and “Yankee Doodle.” Sitting up straight, he placed his hand over his heart—and I had to look away, biting the inside of my cheek so as not to burst into laughter. He rose and laid his other hand gently upon Mama’s arm. “Madam, I cannot begin to convey my gratitude to you, a mother of such brave boys. Your noble sacrifice will never be forgotten.”

Mama, her face covered in mortification, simply nodded, still unable to look Mr. Barnum in the eye. He returned to his seat with a loud, dramatic sniff—then turned to give me a brazen wink, which made me gasp out loud.

Mama and Papa looked at me, but I simply shook my head and dabbed my eye, as if contemplating my brothers’ courage.

“I do understand your concerns,” Mr. Barnum said, his voice still choked with emotion. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your noble family. I’m a father myself, you know—I have three lovely daughters living, and one angel taken from us far too soon.”

“Oh, no!” Mama exclaimed.

“So you see, I have no desire to do anything but keep Miss Bump virtuous and safe from harm, while naturally allowing her the opportunity to see a bit of the world in the manner deserving of such a fine lady, from such a fine family. I know I’m merely a farmer’s son, a patriot, a father of daughters—but I vow, with all my heart, to protect your daughter. I’d die myself before I would bring shame upon your good name.”

During this speech, Mr. Barnum had leaned forward toward my parents in a beseeching attitude, his hands outstretched, his face open and earnest. Mama and Papa listened intently, transfixed.

I leaned forward as well; I did so want my parents’ blessing. I could not imagine continuing to live in Middleborough, where I would never fit in, not only because of my size but now because of my reputation. I could imagine no future for me there that did not consist of staying at home with Mama and Papa and Minnie, growing smaller and older with each tick of the kitchen mantel clock, which Mama faithfully wound every day—until I disappeared completely.

I had known Mr. Barnum only a quarter of an hour, but already I felt my wits quicken with every word he spoke, every move he made, as if he were the sharpening stone and I the edge of the knife. It was as if I had at last found someone with a personality, with dreams, as big as my own.

“What I can’t understand is how you heard of Lavinia in the first place.” Mama shook her head. “She’s been back home for almost two years now. I thought that she’d gotten this whole thing out of her