are smaller than hers.”
Josephine suddenly had an idea.
“Mr. Amos?” she said, touching his arm.
“Eh?” Mr. Amos bent farther toward her so she could speak into his ear.
“I have a little money of my own, sir. Saved up from working before. What I really want is—” She hesitated. “I mean, all your fancy slippers are beautiful, sir, but what I want is a real pair of shoes. To just wear. And I’ll pay.”
The very next day, Josephine had her plain, brown leather high-lows with a buckle in front. Real shoes that really fit!
“Oh, Mr. Amos!”
“Well, they are pretty, if I do say so myself. I like a shoe that meets the ankle, but for a child the heel should be low to the ground. I’m happy you like them, my dearie.”
And Josephine had bought them with two dollars of her own money! That made her think about having a new dress too. One that wasn’t a costume, that she could wear every day instead of her raggedy kitchen dress. When consulted, Mr. Jacobs kindly agreed to create a simple frock in exchange for her remaining coins.
“You look as pretty as a picture postcard!” exclaimed Nelly fondly. “That green linen suits you. Brings out the color of your eyes.”
Mr. Walters had also ordered six pairs of stockings, including striped ones, which Mr. Jacobs assured him were the very latest thing from France.
“Why, these would fit the hind legs of a cat!” Mr. Walters exclaimed, holding them up in amazement. And that gave him his next brilliant idea.
“Rosie has a big old dog, doesn’t she, Nelly?”
“Aye, sir. His name is Barker. He’s a retriever.”
“Well, it’s time he earned his keep. What do you say to riding a dog, Josephine? I shall order a saddle.”
“Me? Ride a dog?”
Josephine thought briefly of the howling hounds that had chased her the night she fled from school.
“Will he be even-tempered, sir?”
Mr. Walters roared with laughter. “Every bit as pleasant as I am, my dear.”
“I’m not sure that’s a comfort,” she murmured in reply.
Several days later, the wardrobe complete and her manners polished, Josephine sat in Mr. Walters’s office. She listened in bemusement as he spoke at great length and great volume into a peculiar instrument on his desk called a telephone.
“Yes? Yes? Hello?” he shouted.
“New York Tribune”
This is R. J. Walters calling you. I want to notify your reporter of cultural affairs-that would be who? Who? Mr. Gideon Smyth? Thank you.
“Please notify Mr. Smyth of a reception being held at the New Amsterdam Hotel—Hello? Yes, to honor thesudden arrival of a new celebrity in our midst. All the way from Middle Europe. This is an occasion of great importance. He will want to be notified. Little Jo-Jo is the smallest human in the world—
“Tom Thumb? A giant by comparison! Come and see for yourself! On Friday evening at five o’clock. The New Amsterdam Hotel…”
Over and over, Mr. Walters made this invitation, to reporters and journalists at every newspaper within the range of his telephone.
When he finally replaced the handpiece and looked at Josephine, he bore the smile of a man proud of a long day’s labor.
“Not everything you said was true,” Josephine accused him. “What if they find out? What if I make a mistake?”
“Let me tell you something,” said Mr. Walters, his voice humming with reassurance and warmth. “Not everything I told them needed to be true. It just had to be intriguing. In the world of entertainment, that is known as the ballyhoo—the talk that brings them in the door. Once they’re inside, what they’ve been told will pale in the face of the real thing. And in this case, the real thing is you.”
Mr. R. J. Walters Discovers
WORLD’S
SMALLEST GIRL
W EDNESDAY , J UNE 4, 1884 —Mr. Randolph James Walters, proprietor of the Museum of Earthly Astonishments located on the Bouwerie, and in Coney Island, today announced that he has discovered and employed what he claims to be the world’s
Josephine suddenly had an idea.
“Mr. Amos?” she said, touching his arm.
“Eh?” Mr. Amos bent farther toward her so she could speak into his ear.
“I have a little money of my own, sir. Saved up from working before. What I really want is—” She hesitated. “I mean, all your fancy slippers are beautiful, sir, but what I want is a real pair of shoes. To just wear. And I’ll pay.”
The very next day, Josephine had her plain, brown leather high-lows with a buckle in front. Real shoes that really fit!
“Oh, Mr. Amos!”
“Well, they are pretty, if I do say so myself. I like a shoe that meets the ankle, but for a child the heel should be low to the ground. I’m happy you like them, my dearie.”
And Josephine had bought them with two dollars of her own money! That made her think about having a new dress too. One that wasn’t a costume, that she could wear every day instead of her raggedy kitchen dress. When consulted, Mr. Jacobs kindly agreed to create a simple frock in exchange for her remaining coins.
“You look as pretty as a picture postcard!” exclaimed Nelly fondly. “That green linen suits you. Brings out the color of your eyes.”
Mr. Walters had also ordered six pairs of stockings, including striped ones, which Mr. Jacobs assured him were the very latest thing from France.
“Why, these would fit the hind legs of a cat!” Mr. Walters exclaimed, holding them up in amazement. And that gave him his next brilliant idea.
“Rosie has a big old dog, doesn’t she, Nelly?”
“Aye, sir. His name is Barker. He’s a retriever.”
“Well, it’s time he earned his keep. What do you say to riding a dog, Josephine? I shall order a saddle.”
“Me? Ride a dog?”
Josephine thought briefly of the howling hounds that had chased her the night she fled from school.
“Will he be even-tempered, sir?”
Mr. Walters roared with laughter. “Every bit as pleasant as I am, my dear.”
“I’m not sure that’s a comfort,” she murmured in reply.
Several days later, the wardrobe complete and her manners polished, Josephine sat in Mr. Walters’s office. She listened in bemusement as he spoke at great length and great volume into a peculiar instrument on his desk called a telephone.
“Yes? Yes? Hello?” he shouted.
“New York Tribune”
This is R. J. Walters calling you. I want to notify your reporter of cultural affairs-that would be who? Who? Mr. Gideon Smyth? Thank you.
“Please notify Mr. Smyth of a reception being held at the New Amsterdam Hotel—Hello? Yes, to honor thesudden arrival of a new celebrity in our midst. All the way from Middle Europe. This is an occasion of great importance. He will want to be notified. Little Jo-Jo is the smallest human in the world—
“Tom Thumb? A giant by comparison! Come and see for yourself! On Friday evening at five o’clock. The New Amsterdam Hotel…”
Over and over, Mr. Walters made this invitation, to reporters and journalists at every newspaper within the range of his telephone.
When he finally replaced the handpiece and looked at Josephine, he bore the smile of a man proud of a long day’s labor.
“Not everything you said was true,” Josephine accused him. “What if they find out? What if I make a mistake?”
“Let me tell you something,” said Mr. Walters, his voice humming with reassurance and warmth. “Not everything I told them needed to be true. It just had to be intriguing. In the world of entertainment, that is known as the ballyhoo—the talk that brings them in the door. Once they’re inside, what they’ve been told will pale in the face of the real thing. And in this case, the real thing is you.”
Mr. R. J. Walters Discovers
WORLD’S
SMALLEST GIRL
W EDNESDAY , J UNE 4, 1884 —Mr. Randolph James Walters, proprietor of the Museum of Earthly Astonishments located on the Bouwerie, and in Coney Island, today announced that he has discovered and employed what he claims to be the world’s
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