The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [83]
“I think that’s best, to keep peace, and help the poor soul get over his disappointment.” Mr. Barnum turned to me with a coaxing smile, that barely suppressed glimmer in his eyes. “Come, Vinnie, think of it. The wedding party now consists of you three absolutely perfect, charming people—who do you think best completes such a tableau?”
“Oh, Vinnie, do ask your sister, do!” Charles turned to me as well, grasping my hand. “For your sister naturally will be dear to me as any of my own, and this would be the perfect way for us all to begin. And how convenient, as well—think of the photographs of the bridal party! Why, none of us would have to be seated or standing on a step; we’d all be the same. I’ve never before had my photograph taken with people all of my same size—imagine!”
Charles looked so eager, so happy; Mr. Barnum did, as well, although his eagerness was more likely caused by the dollar signs he saw at the mention of photographs.
I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t just the wedding; it was what would happen after. That was what I feared.
“Just the wedding,” I decided. “That’s all. After that, Minnie goes back home.”
“Of course,” Mr. Barnum agreed with that admiring, approving look that blinded me so that I did not always see what else was behind it. “Just as you wish, Vinnie. You know I promised your parents I would never do a thing without your approval first.”
“I know,” I said reluctantly, ruefully. “And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“SISTER! SISTER! WE TOOK THE TRAIN AND IT WASN’T DREADFUL at all, although Papa looked awfully sick and kept his eyes closed the whole time even though I know he wasn’t sleeping. And then I was hungry but Mama said we’d eat at the next stop but there wasn’t any food there, only some dreadful boy selling black bananas. Mama says New York smells awful, doesn’t it? And then we saw buildings that almost blocked out the sun, and I ate a piece of ice that was flavored like cherry, in a paper cup, and then we rode in the most beautiful carriage and Mr. Barnum kissed my hand, just like I was a lady, just like I was you! Oh, Sister, I’m so glad to see you!” And Minnie finally paused for breath only to fling her arms about me, nearly knocking me over; she squeezed so tightly I thought she might crack one of my stays. I held her close for a moment, laying my cheek against her tangled, glossy black curls, which Mama had tried to put up in a ladylike sweep. But it hadn’t survived the trip; those curls had a mind of their own, and obviously they had decided the occasion was much too exciting to remain in so sedate a style.
“Minnie, Pumpkin, let me look at you!” I held her at arm’s length, hungrily taking her in as if it had been years since I’d seen her, not just weeks. Even when I came home from the river, I hadn’t been this happy to greet her; I think I’d been so numbed from the whole experience. But I wasn’t numb now! Something new, something wonderful, seemed to happen every day, and I wanted to share each and every experience with my family.
Minnie smiled, that dimple, that impish sparkle in her eyes, warming my heart. She was wearing the new dress I had sent to her, in the newest fashion—hoops so wide they swayed like the Liberty Bell, tiny waist, brown velvet panels alternating with gold satin. She wore a fur-tipped cloak and gloves and a fur hat (also gifts from me); she looked adorably ladylike.
Mama, too, looked very fine, in a similar dress and cloak, carrying a muff. I had never seen her dressed so handsomely, and it suited her to a remarkable degree. No longer in her comforting apron and homespun dress, she looked every inch a Warren of Massachusetts. Papa, so bashful and cowed, his shoulders pinched, his head bent, did not look so nice in his new suit and coat. A farmer’s clothes were all he would ever be comfortable in.
But I didn’t mind; I was just happy that they had arrived for my wedding. Mr. Barnum had arranged for a nice suite in the Metropolitan Hotel, on the same floor as mine,