The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [81]
He, of course, oversaw the entire operation; it was his gift to us—and to himself.
“Vinnie, Charlie, now, who are you going to have as your wedding party?” Mr. Barnum asked us one evening, after the Museum had closed. We were in his office, both of us exhausted; Charles was too tired even to hold my hand, as he did, much like Minnie, whenever he was near me. In fact, I was beginning to think of him in much the same way as I did my beloved sister: someone just a little more delicate, just a little more innocent, than I was. Someone in need of my constant protection, perhaps more in need of protection than he was of my love.
Maybe it was because I was thinking of her that her name popped out of my mouth. “Minnie,” I said, stifling a yawn. Then I realized what I had said and sat up straight.
“Minnie?” Mr. Barnum looked confused. “Who’s Minnie?”
“Why, she’s Vinnie’s sister!” Charles piped up, even though I shook my head, warningly, at him. But he did not pay any attention. “And say, Phineas, she’s just like us! Smaller than Vinnie, even. I met her when I asked Vinnie’s parents for her hand. I’m awfully glad to have a sister I don’t have to look up to.”
“You have a sister?” Mr. Barnum looked at me; there was surprise and hurt, both, in his eyes. “You never mentioned that to me before.”
“I never—I just didn’t think it necessary, as Minnie’s so shy. She’s content to stay at home with Papa and Mama.”
“What other secrets do you keep from me, Vinnie? I have to say, I’m quite hurt!”
I could not decide if he was joking or not; he had a teasing, crooked grin upon his face, but his eyes glittered, hard.
“None. It’s not exactly as if Minnie is a secret, of course, it’s just—”
“That you never felt like telling me, your friend, about her?”
“No, it’s not that—you don’t understand.” I shook my head and attempted to undo the damage. “Actually, to get back to the subject, I think Pauline would make a wonderful bridesmaid, and I’d be honored if she would accept.”
“And of course you’ll be my best man, Phineas.” Charles rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“I am much honored,” Mr. Barnum replied seriously, patting Charles on the shoulder. “But I can just imagine what the newspapers would say to that—accusing me of hogging the spotlight or some such nonsense. No, I think it would be better if you found someone else. What about Nutt?”
“Old Nutt? Well, he’s a jolly old fellow, but he’s mad at me, you know. I guess he’s still mad about Vinnie.”
“I think that he might appreciate it if you ask him, Charles. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d put aside his wounded pride out of happiness for the two of you.”
“Well, if you think it’s best, Phineas—”
“I do, old fellow. Now, Vinnie, obviously you want your sister to stand up with you—why pretend otherwise?” Mr. Barnum turned to me, again with that hard glitter in his eyes; I could hear the gears in his brain turning now, as well, as he chewed his lip, drummed a pencil against his desk. “I have an idea. Listen to me. We haven’t discussed what you’ll do after your honeymoon tour—by the way, the Lincolns have definitely invited you two to a reception at the Executive Mansion, and that’s a bit of publicity beyond anything I could dream up, bless their Republican souls—but now I’m coming up with a plan. Imagine this: a quartet of the most wonderful, intelligent, and perfectly formed ladies and gentlemen the world ever produced, presented for the first time ever before the public. You two, Nutt, and now—Miss Minnie Warren. What do you think of that?”
“No.” I shook my head so vigorously that some of my hair escaped its pins, falling down and tickling my nose. “No. Not Minnie. She