Earthly Astonishments

by Marthe Jocelyn

Josephine’s yelp was easily lost in the screeching wails that filled the room. Marco shot across the floor, straight for Miss MacLaren’s white, buttoned shoes. The head-mistress didn’t wait to see her fate. She swooned, with a whimper, and crashed to the ground, like a harpooned whale. Marco sideswiped past her, seeking cover.

  Harriet and Felicia fainted in the same moment, falling over each other and blocking the doorway. Marco was trapped, and so was everyone else. In a chaotic uproar of grabbing and shoving, yanking and howling, the remaining students of MacLaren Academy tried to leave the room.

  Amidst the knuckles and knees, Josephine could see Emmy crouched against a packing crate, sobbing into her hands. Filipe was on all fours, beckoning to Marco, who had found sanctuary behind the wardrobe.

  “Do something to revive these bodies,” commanded Mr. Walters.

  “With pleasure, sir!” Nelly clasped the handle of the fire bucket which stood next to the door. She flung water on the slack face of Miss MacLaren, who sat up spluttering. She had barely taken a breath before she was on her feet and babbling hysterically.

  “Girls! Gather yourselves, girls! Get out! Get out! Who’s this? Harriet? Smack her! Wake her up! Get out! Run! Felicia? Up, girl! Run! Run!”

  And run they did. After several collisions, and more squawking than inside a henhouse, the girls scurried down the corridor without looking back.

  But Miss MacLaren paused in the doorway to point a threatening finger at Mr. Walters. She could not disguise the wobble in her voice.

  “I’ll be back. And you will deliver my property, or I shall expose you for the lowdown fraud that you are!” She turned, with a final notion of majesty, and waddled quickly after her charges.

  Mr. Walters sat in the chair with an emphatic sigh. Josephine unclenched her fingers, feeling stiff and shaken. If only they would all leave so that she could move again. She saw Nelly lean over Filipe on the floor.

  “Is Marco all right?” she asked.

  Filipe pulled him gently out of his hiding place, clicking his tongue as if he were cajoling a toddler.

  “He will recover with no complaint.”

  “Filipe!” Mr. Walters stood up to congratulate him. “You did a fine job! I will remember that on pay day!”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Walters, sir!”

  “Now, off you go. They’ll be missing you out front.”

  Nelly stood aside to let Filipe past. Marco hung limply from his shoulder. He would not appear too menacing this afternoon.

  Still in her hiding place, Josephine was suddenly aware of being unbearably hot. Her scalp was aflame. She was still wearing Cleopatra’s wig! She tore it off and dropped it silently at her feet.

  “Nelly, I see why you might wish to protect Josephine from that bloated cow, but there is no excuse for her to miss a performance, certainly not without explanation, and I—”

  “I don’t know where she is, sir. Charley says he told her to wait, but she’s gone. She must have been that afraid.”

  “Indeed?” Mr. Walters’s voice had gone flat. “Who’s on duty at the ticket booth, Nelly?”

  “My Charley’s there now.”

  “He should be on exhibit. And you should be taking the money. That’s what I pay you for. Go.”

  Josephine could hear Nelly’s voice, coming in from the hallway. “All I know is, she’s a wee thing and shouldn’t be out there on her own.” The door closed.

  Mr. Walters was back near his desk, where Josephine couldn’t see him. What if he stayed there for hours? Wasn’t he going to look for her? Or send out a search party? She heard papers shifting. What if he chose to work instead?

  She felt as though she was under six blankets. How much longer could she stand it? Her neck was hot, her forehead was perspiring, her nose tickled. Oh, no! She was going to sneeze! She clamped her mouth closed and pinched her nose and pressed her tongue against her teeth. She couldn’t sneeze! Not now!

  Ahhh. The sneeze went away. But how long would it be before another one came along? Oh, and how hot it was!

  Suddenly her anguish ended. Mr. Walters was on his feet and out the door. Maybe he’d gone to summon the policemen who patrolled the beach. She had better move quickly. She stepped out from between the coats and fanned her skirt away from her legs. Even that small breeze was a relief. She lifted her damp hair and shook her head back and forth, cooling the back of her neck.

  Without warning, the door swung open again. She was caught. Mr. Walters was consulting his watch and didn’t even see her, in the first second. It was when he slipped the watch back into his vest pocket and adjusted the chain that he noticed her.

  They both stood frozen. They could have been the same height, their eyes were so steadily locked.

  “Josephine.”

  “Mr. Walters.”

  “You have caused immeasurable trouble.” He was eerily calm. “But I suppose you know that. Have you been here all along?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Marco performed admirably, did he not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I see that the door to his cage is still open.”

  “Sir?”

  “It is a strict rule that Exhibitions never miss an appearance. I expect you to be onstage at the required times, including five o’clock this afternoon. You undoubtedly wish to avoid the unpleasant Miss MacLaren. Thus, as a reminder of the regulations, and for your own protection, I must request that you get into Marco’s cage.”

  o amount of pleading would change his mind. In the end, Mr. Walters held Josephine by the shoulder and forced her into Marco’s cage, pushing her head in first with his huge hand. The train of her Cleopatra shift was caught in the door when he closed the latch.

  She hadn’t tried to bite him, which is what she was bursting to do. She hadn’t even screamed for help, not wanting his huge hand clamped over her mouth. Her throat was clogged. Every hair on her body was bristling with rage. She was too small to fight back.

  Mr. Walters selected a brown coat from the wardrobe and draped it over the cage before leaving the room without another word.

  Josephine huddled in darkness, listening to her own ragged breathing. She could smell snake, swampy and dry at the same time. Polo moved in the next door cage, sending goose bumps up her arms. She had enough room to stand up straight, with her head brushing the ceiling, but she sank into the corner, hugging herself.

  Josephine wished she could be like Alice, in the book about Wonderland. If only I had a cake, she thought, that said “Eat Me.” Then she could grow and grow until she was big enough to stomp on anyone who had insulted her.

  She wanted to kill Mr. Walters. She wanted to poison his porridge and poke him with knives. How could he do this? She hadn’t run away from him. She hadn’t missed the finale on purpose. She would never do that except that Miss MacLaren was there, waiting to pounce. He should know by now that she was reliable. He wouldn’t even listen. Her fingernails were digging into her palms.

  How dare he push her! How dare he! Into a cage! She wanted to kill him. She wanted to burn his whiskers and slash his fancy coats with a pair of scissors. How could anyone put a person in a cage? The answer hit Josephine like a hard stick. To him it was a simple matter of commerce. She was a valuable exhibit, not a person at all.

  Josephine’s eyes were hot with tears. She grasped the wooden struts of her prison and shook them.

  Wait a minute! This was a snake cage, not meant to hold people. Snakes can’t think, to get out of things. Josephine’s tears were dry before she had finished the thought. People with big brains and small hands can get out of cages made for snakes. The door wasn’t even locked. It was closed with a latch on the outside.

  Josephine slipped her hand between the bars and felt for the little lever. Sure enough, it moved when she jiggled it. She bit her lip and told her heart to stop hammering. If she could lift the bar far enough, it might slide out of place.

  Then, from the corridor. “Come right in here, sir.” Nelly’s voice! But
clearly speaking to a stranger.

  “I’ll fetch Mr. Walters in a wink.” The office door opened, and footsteps scuffled on the threshold.

  “You can sit yourself down, sir. Oh, perhaps not. There’s only the one chair. And that’s his.”

  Josephine pulled her hand back through the struts, even though it was masked by the drape of Mr. Walters’s coat. She couldn’t tell Nelly she was here until she knew who was with her.

  It was a man with a good-humored chuckle.

  “Then I can take my pick of packing crates?”

  Nelly laughed too. “Make yourself at home! Here’s Mr. Walters coming now.”

  “Nelly! What are you doing in my—” Mr. Walters’s edgy tone changed as he must have seen the guest. “Oh. Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “This is Mr. Gideon Smyth, sir. He’s the gentleman reporter from the Tribune, in the city. The one who wrote the lovely notice about Josephine.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Happy to meet you again, Mr. Walters. I’d like to do an additional piece on the little lady. How she’s doing on the job, is she popular, how much she eats in a day. A personal look, so to speak.”

  Josephine stopped breathing to listen.

  “Can we talk somewhere else?” Mr. Walters was being polite, but strained. “As you can see, my office is lacking any civilized amenities at the moment.”

  “Oh, heck, I don’t care a sweet fig about that. I’m comfortable anywhere.”

  Josephine grinned in the dark. She knew that Mr. Walters must be squirming.

  “I’d like to interview her,” Mr. Smyth continued, in a voice full of lazy confidence. “Put it down in her own words maybe. I notice she’s not out front there. Any chance I could have a few minutes with her after I’ve talked to you?”

  Josephine almost laughed out loud.

  “This is not the best time,” said Mr. Walters abruptly. “She has to be onstage in…” There was a clink, as he consulted his watch. “… in twenty-two minutes, so I must insist that you come another day.”

  “Oh, I’ll just wait until the next show is over. I’d like to see the little lady in action anyway. She’s really something special in my estimation.” Mr. Smyth’s trick of being pleasantly persistent was wearing down the opposition.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Smyth?” Nelly summoned her manners. “While you’re waiting? A lemonade maybe?”

  “He’s not waiting!”

  Then Mr. Walters caught himself. “Not in here certainly. Nelly, get back to your duties. I’ll give Mr. Smyth a personal tour of the museum while he’s waiting. Come along!”

  “Mr. Walters, sir? There was a small matter of something being misplaced earlier on?” Nelly was trying not to say the wrong thing in front of the newspaperman.

  “That’s all taken care of, Nelly. Don’t worry yourself about it. Please assume your post at the entrance. The five o’clock show will go according to plan.” Did Josephine imagine that he spoke more loudly to say this?

  She counted a full minute after their footsteps faded. Then her fingers rapidly unfastened the latch. Mr. Walters’s coat hung across the door, preventing it from swinging open, but Josephine squeezed through, pushing the garment out of her way. She stood, then hopped up and down, shaking her hands and feet. She fancied she was a cup of ginger beer, full of bubbles that tingled on the inside. She wanted to shout aloud.

  “Too bad for you, you slithery old stinker,” she mocked Polo. His scales rasped against the side of his cage as he rolled over. “I’m free, and you’re not!”

  But not altogether. She was still in Mr. Walters’s office and still in his museum. And somewhere outside was Miss MacLaren, looking to capture her. And now there was Mr. Gideon Smyth as well, though he seemed much nicer than the other two. He might even help her, if she could figure out what she wanted help with.

  Josephine brushed off the silky folds of her Egyptian shift. There was no point in trying to run away or hide again right now. She would perform in the second matinee and consult with Charley afterward. Together they would think of something clever. In the meantime, she’d better change her costume if she was going to appear at five o’clock.

  “Good-bye, Polo. I won’t be missing you.”

  She crossed the slanting, sunlit patch on the floor and peered down the hall. Within seconds, she had crept to her empty dressing room. Rosie must be on exhibition, but the lavender scent of her beard balm lingered in the air. Barker was asleep on his cushion in the corner.

  Seconds more, and Josephine was wearing the white ball gown of Mary Todd Lincoln. As she fastened the tiny pearl buttons, she thought of Mr. Walters’s face when he returned to find her in the snake cage. The wicked bully! Well, she just wouldn’t be there. And when she appeared on stage a few minutes later, she meant to give his heart the jump of its life.

  Lifting her skirt, like a lady about to dance a gavotte, Josephine made her way toward the tented theater. Charley and Filipe would be at the front entrance by now, tantalizing the crowds leaving the beach, enticing them inside for one more thrill before they caught the train back to the city. And Nelly would be smiling at the entrance, taking their money as quickly as she could, putting the coins into the pocket of her apron.

  “There she is, Constable! There’s the scrawny runt now!”

  Josephine staggered at the sound of Miss MacLaren’s holler. Spinning around, she saw the headmistress, red in the face and waddling just in front of seven panting schoolgirls. Close behind them was a policeman, wielding a wooden nightstick.

  here she is, Constable! Arrest her at once!” Josephine turned to flee, not thinking about her chances. But before she could take a step, she was confronted by Mr. R. J. Walters and a shaggy-haired stranger, who must be Mr. Gideon Smyth. They appeared from the theater tent, roused by the commotion.

  She was surrounded.

  “I knew you were hiding her!” Miss MacLaren crowed in triumph. “You see that, Constable? She was here all along!”

  Josephine lifted her chin to meet Mr. Walters’s stare with all the calm she could muster. In the passing of a second, she saw him master his shock.

  “I tried to stop them!” Nelly appeared in the hall, with Charley at her heels. “Mr. Walters, I tried. But she had the policeman, there wasn’t much I could do.

  “Oh! Dear Jo! Where have you been?” Nelly pushed her way through the press of girls, knocking straw hats askew in her hurry.

  “Nelly!” cried Josephine, not expecting the lump that rose in her throat. “I was”

  “You missed the finale of the first show! We couldn’t find you. It’s nearly time for the second.” She knelt on the planked floor and swept Josephine into her arms.

  Josephine clung back, not ready to speak. Charley patted her head with awkward strokes.

  “We were almighty worried, Jo.”

  “Constable, I demand that you end this display of sentimental eyewash. Arrest the girl as a thief and a runaway!”

  Miss MacLaren lunged forward and plucked Josephine right out of Nelly’s embrace. Nelly pulled her back, and for a moment, Josephine was yanked like a sausage between two hungry dogs. Emmy began to scream.

  “Well, now, this ain’t the way I aim to see ladies actin’.” The policeman’s gravelly voice called everyone to attention. He motioned for Josephine’s release.

  Nelly loosened her hold and stood up, brushing down her dress. Emmy tried to push forward, but Miss MacLaren snatched her collar and twisted her back. Josephine, trembling and sniffing, stepped sideways to avoid Miss MacLaren. Charley quietly took her hand and wrapped her fingers in the warmth of his.

  “We’re havin’ ourselves a dispute,” said the policeman, with a chuckle, addressing himself to Mr. Walters. “I think we should step outside to discuss the matter.”

  “Indeed, my dear Officer Beale. Please lead the way. We shall follow you to the main entrance.”

  Mr. Walters was mindful of his audience. Josephine noticed that Mr.
Gideon Smyth was leaning against the wall, trying to find the best light for writing in his notepad. Charley held on to her hand, and she found that Emmy was daring to hold the other.

  But Catherine and Felicia were close behind.

  “Sneak!” they hissed. They yanked Emmy away and pushed her out of Jo’s reach.

  The parade attracted much attention as it straggled through the museum. An eager officer of the law, a huffing schoolmistress, a clatch of children in uniform, an albino, a midget, a mother, a reporter, and an impresario! Filipe and Eddie and Rosie all watched in bemusement from their posts. The paying customers were agog with curiosity.

  Mr. Walters, bringing up the rear of the train, was quick to see the possibilities of such an opportunity.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” he boomed, as he traipsed to the portal overlooking the beach. “The five o’clock performance will be postponed by half an hour due to police activity in the neighborhood. By coming to the theater tent at half after five, you will be among the few to know the outcome!”

  He ordered Nelly to remain inside, to sell extra tickets for the impromptu presentation.

  “But I want to look out for Jo, sir!” she protested.

  Mr. Walters, in full view of Charley and Josephine, winked at Nelly and removed a fold of paper money from her apron pocket.

  “Don’t you worry about our Jo. Let’s see if I can’t talk sense to Officer Beale,” he said, with a smile. “But we’ll draw a bit more of a crowd first.” He strode out to the esplanade and recommenced his ballyhoo.

  “It’s never too late for surprises, ladies and gentlemen! Here at the Museum of Earthly—”

  “He’s going to bribe the constable!” whispered Josephine. She didn’t like the feel of it. “He can’t do that!”

  “Why not?” Charley shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the way it’s done. Spondulicks, remember?”

  “If he pays off the constable, he’ll think I’m obliged to him. He’ll think I owe him something!”

  Unless he could be reminded that he owed her. He shouldn’t forget the insult of the snake cage.

  “There must be another way out of this!” Josephine tapped the side of her head, trying to shake loose a good idea.