The Magic Finger Read Online
Clara Zellinger
I thought this book was good because there was a girl who had a magic finger and she lived next door to a good family, but the family went hunting . One day she put her magic finger on the whole family.
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I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passedit once or twice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magicballs, magic hens, wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the materialof the basket trick, packs of cards that looked all right, and allthat sort of thing, but never had I thought of going in until one day,almost without warning, Gip hauled me by my finger right up tothe window, and so conducted himself that there was nothing for itbut to take him in. I had not thought the place was there, to tellthe truth--a modest-sized frontage in Regent Street, betweenthe picture shop and the place where the chicks run about justout of patent incubators, but there it was sure enough. I had fanciedit was down nearer the Circus, or round the corner in Oxford Street,or even in Holborn; always over the way and a little inaccessibleit had been, with something of the mirage in its position; but hereit was now quite indisputably, and the fat end of Gip's pointingfinger made a noise upon the glass.
"If I was rich," said Gip, dabbing a finger at the Disappearing Egg,"I'd buy myself that. And that"--which was The Crying Baby, Very Human--and that," which was a mystery, and called, so a neat card asserted,"Buy One and Astonish Your Friends."
Gip, dear boy, inherits his mother's breeding, and he did not proposeto enter the shop or worry in any way; only, you know, quite unconsciouslyhe lugged my finger doorward, and he made his interest clear.
It was a little, narrow shop, not very well lit, and the door-bellpinged again with a plaintive note as we closed it behind us.For a moment or so we were alone and could glance about us.There was a tiger in papier-mache on the glass case that coveredthe low counter--a grave, kind-eyed tiger that waggled his headin a methodical manner; there were several crystal spheres, a chinahand holding magic cards, a stock of magic fish-bowls in varioussizes, and an immodest magic hat that shamelessly displayed its springs.On the floor were magic mirrors; one to draw you out long and thin,one to swell your head and vanish your legs, and one to make you shortand fat like a draught; and while we were laughing at these the shopman,as I suppose, came in.
"We make no charge for glass balls," said the shopman politely."We get them,"--he picked one out of his elbow as he spoke--"free."He produced another from the back of his neck, and laid it besideits predecessor on the counter. Gip regarded his glass ball sagely,then directed a look of inquiry at the two on the counter, and finallybrought his round-eyed scrutiny to the shopman, who smiled.
"In a way," the shopman said. "Though we pay in the end. But notso heavily--as people suppose. . . . Our larger tricks, and our dailyprovisions and all the other things we want, we get out of that hat. . .And you know, sir, if you'll excuse my saying it, there isn'ta wholesale shop, not for Genuine Magic goods, sir. I don't knowif you noticed our inscription--the Genuine Magic shop." He drewa business-card from his cheek and handed it to me. "Genuine,"he said, with his finger on the word, and added, "There is absolutelyno deception, sir."
"It is, sir," said the shopman, "always--for that sort of child,"and as he spoke we had a glimpse of the other youngster, a little,white face, pallid from sweet-eating and over-sapid food, anddistorted by evil passions, a ruthless little egotist, pawingat the enchanted pane. "It's no good, sir," said the shopman,as I moved, with my natural helpfulness, doorward, and presentlythe spoilt child was carried off howling.
And leaning over the counter--he really had an extraordinarilylong body--this amazing person produced the article in the customaryconjurer's manner. "Paper," he said, and took a sheet out ofthe empty hat with the springs; "string," and behold his mouth wasa string-box, from which he drew an unending thread, which whenhe had tied his parcel he bit off--and, it seemed to me, swallowedthe ball of string. And then he lit a candle at the nose of oneof the ventriloquist's dummies, stuck one of his fingers (whichhad become sealing-wax red) into the flame, and so sealed the parcel."Then there was the Disappearing Egg," he remarked, and producedone from within my coat-breast and packed it, and also The CryingBaby, Very Human. I handed each parcel to Gip as it was ready,and he clasped them to his chest.
He said very little, but his eyes were eloquent; the clutch ofhis arms was eloquent. He was the playground of unspeakable emotions.These, you know, were real Magics. Then, with a start, I discoveredsomething moving about in my hat--something soft and jumpy. I whippedit off, and a ruffled pigeon--no doubt a confederate--dropped outand ran on the counter, and went, I fancy, into a cardboard boxbehind the papier-mache tiger.
He shook my hat, and shook out into his extended hand two or threeeggs, a large marble, a watch, about half-a-dozen of the inevitableglass balls, and then crumpled, crinkled paper, more and more and more,talking all the time of the way in which people neglect to brushtheir hats inside as well as out, politely, of course, but witha certain personal application. "All sorts of things accumulate,sir. . . . Not you, of course, in particular. . . . Nearly everycustomer. . . . Astonishing what they carry about with them. . . ."The crumpled paper rose and billowed on the counter more and moreand more, until he was nearly hidden from us, until he was altogetherhidden, and still his voice went on and on. "We none of us knowwhat the fair semblance of a human being may conceal, sir. Are weall then no better than brushed exteriors, whited sepulchres--"
I led Gip round the head-wagging tiger, and what do you thinkthere was behind the counter? No one at all! Only my hat on the floor,and a common conjurer's lop-eared white rabbit lost in meditation,and looking as stupid and crumpled as only a conjurer's rabbitcan do. I resumed my hat, and the rabbit lolloped a lollop or soout of my way.
"So should I," I said to myself, "if the counter wouldn't suddenlyextend itself to shut one off from the door." But I didn't callGip's attention to that. "Pussy!" he said, with a hand out tothe rabbit as it came lolloping past us; "Pussy, do Gip a magic!"and his eyes followed it as it squeezed through a door I hadcertainly not remarked a moment before. Then this door opened wider,and the man with one ear larger than the other appeared again.He was smiling still, but his eye met mine with something betweenamusement and defiance. "You'd like to see our show-room, sir," hesaid, with an innocent suavity. Gip tugged my finger forward. Iglanced at the counter and met the shopman's eye again. I wasbeginning to think the magic just a little too genuine. "We haven'tVERY much time," I said. But somehow we were inside the show-roombefore I could finish that.
"All goods of the same quality," said the shopman, rubbing hisflexible hands together, "and that is the Best. Nothing in the placethat isn't genuine Magic, and warranted thoroughly rum. Excuse me, sir!"
I felt him pull at something that clung to my coat-sleeve, and thenI saw he held a little, wriggling red demon by the tail--the littlecreature bit and fought and tried to get at his hand--and in a momenthe tossed it carelessly behind a counter. No doubt the thing wasonly an image of twisted indiarubber, but for the moment--! And hisgesture was exactly that of a man who handles some petty biting bitof vermin. I glanced at Gip, but Gip was looking at a magic rocking-horse. I was glad he hadn't seen the thing. "I say," I said, in anundertone, and indicating Gip and the red demon with my eyes, "youhaven't many things like that about, have you?"
"None of ours! Probably brought it with you," said the shopman--also in an undertone, and with a more dazzling smile than ever."Astonishing what people will carry about with them unawares!"And then to Gip, "Do you see anything you fancy here?"
"A Magic Toy Sword. It neither bends, breaks, nor cuts the fingers.It renders the bearer invincible in battle against any one undereighteen. Half-a-crown to seven and sixpence, according to size. Thesepanoplies on cards are for juvenile knights-errant and very useful--shield of safety, sandals of swiftness, helmet of invisibility."
I tried to find out what they cost, but the shopman did not heed me.He had got Gip now; he had got him away from my finger; he hadembarked upon the exposition of all his confounded stock, and nothingwas going to stop him. Presently I saw with a qualm of distrustand something very like jealousy that Gip had hold of this person'sfinger as usually he has hold of mine. No doubt the fellow wasinteresting, I thought, and had an interestingly faked lot of stuff,really good faked stuff, still--
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