Louisa and the Crystal Gazer by Anna Maclean Read Free Book Online Page B

daily and nightly for the important gifts of this world: a family that loves you, your health, your mind.
    This, from your loving father, is sent with a fond embrace.
    P.S. Your mother says that Lizzie is in Boston? When did she leave? I had not noticed her absence, but then your mother is usually right in these matters.
    Two days after Lizzie’s arrival, when I knew she had settled in and was happily practicing an étude in Auntie Bond’s piano room, I left the pile of shirtsleeves in my workbasket and my new story on my desk in the attic (Auntie Bond hadcleared out an old nanny’s room for my use) and took an afternoon off to do some research on the art and performance of crystal gazing. I visited the public library and the private Atheneum. I stopped for a long chat with the woman who sold greenhouse carnations at Constitution Wharf. I visited with a Mrs. McGillicuddy who had been born in County Cork and now ran a day home for children whose mothers worked in the mills. When I returned home, many hours later, I wrote up my notes and thought and thought.
    Seven days after the first séance with Mrs. Percy, Sylvia and Lizzie and I were at MacIntyre’s Inn on Boylston Street, enjoying warm glasses of eggnog—without brandy, of course—and waiting for our plates of haddock to arrive. Mr. Phineas T. Barnum was with us, having sent a note earlier in the day reiterating his invitation to an early dinner before our second séance.
    Lizzie was impressed by MacIntyre’s white tablecloths, ornate gas lamps, and black-uniformed waiters, and she ate with her elbows tucked closely at her side, rarely even looking up.
    “More raisin bread?” Sylvia asked Lizzie, passing the plate to her.
    “It is fine,” said Lizzie, timidly taking a second piece. “More like cake.”
    “My daughter, Caroline, also prefers cake to bread,” said Mr. Barnum. “We shall order a fine layer cake for dessert, with a cream frosting,” he boomed. “You remind me of her, Miss Lizzie. Quiet, but quick-witted.”
    “You miss your family,” I said. “It must be difficult, traveling as much as you do.”
    “It is, but Charity is a fine mother and helpmate, when herhealth is good. A father must provide for his children, and my business requires that I wander the world seeking its marvels.” He buttered a piece of bread and ate it in three bites, as do men who are often in a great hurry.
    “Is that why you wandered into Mrs. Percy’s parlor, seeking marvels?” I asked.
    He looked in much better spirits than when we first met in Mrs. Percy’s waiting room, where he had seemed to me somehow devastated, despite his shiny brassiness of behavior. In fact, this afternoon he looked robust and overly splendid, dressed in a bright suit with an even brighter tie, with many diamond rings glittering on his fingers, and checked spats over his shoes. He looked, well, like what he was: a showman who adored attention and intended to get it. He had been snapping at waiters and winking at the coat-check girl since his arrival, and he spoke in a large voice, as if trying to fill an auditorium. He had even gone to the trouble to arrive late and make an entrance. Father would not have approved of this; nor did I.
    He did not answer my question and instead distracted us by asking Lizzie if she preferred lemon or strawberry ice, as his other daughter, Pauline, favored lemon. Our fish arrived, and for the next hour we ate well while Mr. Barnum, between generous mouthfuls, entertained us with highly amusing tales of his travels through Europe with General Tom Thumb, describing how Queen Victoria had set the diminutive man on her knees next to her lapdogs, and how King Louis Philippe of France let Tom Thumb, in his miniature carriage, lead a royal procession down the Champs-Élysées. Mr. Barnum was a fine storyteller. He and Father had qualities in commonafter all, the strength of their voices and their insistence on being heard among them.
    When the plates were