beautiful people ate only lettuce and drank only water. Mr. Eleutherios and his lady friends had wine with every meal, even breakfast, and generally ordered roast lamb with rosemary and garlic.
Captain Doubloon ate down in the Kitchens, sharing a cozy table with Mrs. Beet and Shorty, but Emma and Masterman had their own table in the Dining Room. When all the guests had been waited on, Winston would wait on the two children. Emma felt very grand ordering veal cutlets or breaded sole or filet mignon, and sipping from her fine-cut crystal water glass.
19
O RPHANS
O NE MORNING, AS she was brushing her hair, Emma noticed that she felt light-hearted. As she thought about it, she realized that she had been light-hearted for quite a while now. It gave her a little shock to understand that it had been a long time since she had thought about the storm, or the people and things she had lost in the storm.
She had been so busy having adventures and making new friends that she hadn’t had time to be sad. It made her feel guilty now. She was a little glum as she went down to breakfast, and a little silent as she sat across the table from Masterman.
“What’s the matter with
you
today?” Masterman said at last.
Emma picked up her spoon and stirred her oatmeal around before answering. “Don’t you ever feel bad about being an orphan?”
“I used to,” said Masterman. “I felt bad all the time.”
“What happened to your family?” asked Emma. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“That’s all right,” said Masterman. “My father was The Astonishing Wenlocke. He was the greatest magician who ever lived, because his tricks weren’t just illusions. He could work
real
magic.”
“Is there real magic?”
“Of course there is. Look around,” said Masterman, waving his spoon at the other people in the Dining Room. “Who do you think all these people are? They’re magic. And Winston’s a ghost! If you weren’t very good at noticing things, you might not even see them, but we Wenlockes have always been able to see them.”
“I can see them too,” said Emma.
“Well, I suppose you’re intelligent,” said Masterman, a little grudgingly. “Or maybe it’s because you’re a kid. My father always told me that everyone starts out being able to see magic, but because it’s scary, most people pretend it isn’t there. By the time they grow up, they really can’t see magical things anymore. That was the problem with my father’s magic act.
“
He sighed and looked down at the table.
“Why?”
“His magic tricks were real, and no one could figure out how they worked. People got angry that they couldn’t figure out the tricks, especially the people who wrote stage reviews for newspapers. So they wrote bad reviews of his shows, and then no one would come to the shows after the second or third night. So we had to move around a lot. The Astonishing Wenlocke played in all the great cities of the world. We stayed in the very best hotels.”
“Was it just you and your father?”
“No. My mother was in the act. ‘The Astonishing Wenlocke and Melusine, his Lovely Assistant!’ She had a beautiful costume with spangles and wore a tiara with feathers. And if the accident hadn’t happened—” Masterman scowled, and jabbed his spoon into his grapefruit half so hard a squirt of grapefruit juice shot across the table. “I was going to be in the act too, as soon as I turned five. My mother would have made me a costume and everything.”
“I’m sorry,” said Emma.
“But one night they put me to bed in our room in the hotel, just as they always did,” said Masterman. “And they kissed me goodnight and went off to the theater, just as they always did. When I woke up in the morning, I thought they’d be there, just as they always used to be, having breakfast. But that morning, they weren’t.
“I waited and waited, and when they didn’t come back I called Room Service and ordered my own breakfast. I had pancakes
Captain Doubloon ate down in the Kitchens, sharing a cozy table with Mrs. Beet and Shorty, but Emma and Masterman had their own table in the Dining Room. When all the guests had been waited on, Winston would wait on the two children. Emma felt very grand ordering veal cutlets or breaded sole or filet mignon, and sipping from her fine-cut crystal water glass.
19
O RPHANS
O NE MORNING, AS she was brushing her hair, Emma noticed that she felt light-hearted. As she thought about it, she realized that she had been light-hearted for quite a while now. It gave her a little shock to understand that it had been a long time since she had thought about the storm, or the people and things she had lost in the storm.
She had been so busy having adventures and making new friends that she hadn’t had time to be sad. It made her feel guilty now. She was a little glum as she went down to breakfast, and a little silent as she sat across the table from Masterman.
“What’s the matter with
you
today?” Masterman said at last.
Emma picked up her spoon and stirred her oatmeal around before answering. “Don’t you ever feel bad about being an orphan?”
“I used to,” said Masterman. “I felt bad all the time.”
“What happened to your family?” asked Emma. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“That’s all right,” said Masterman. “My father was The Astonishing Wenlocke. He was the greatest magician who ever lived, because his tricks weren’t just illusions. He could work
real
magic.”
“Is there real magic?”
“Of course there is. Look around,” said Masterman, waving his spoon at the other people in the Dining Room. “Who do you think all these people are? They’re magic. And Winston’s a ghost! If you weren’t very good at noticing things, you might not even see them, but we Wenlockes have always been able to see them.”
“I can see them too,” said Emma.
“Well, I suppose you’re intelligent,” said Masterman, a little grudgingly. “Or maybe it’s because you’re a kid. My father always told me that everyone starts out being able to see magic, but because it’s scary, most people pretend it isn’t there. By the time they grow up, they really can’t see magical things anymore. That was the problem with my father’s magic act.
“
He sighed and looked down at the table.
“Why?”
“His magic tricks were real, and no one could figure out how they worked. People got angry that they couldn’t figure out the tricks, especially the people who wrote stage reviews for newspapers. So they wrote bad reviews of his shows, and then no one would come to the shows after the second or third night. So we had to move around a lot. The Astonishing Wenlocke played in all the great cities of the world. We stayed in the very best hotels.”
“Was it just you and your father?”
“No. My mother was in the act. ‘The Astonishing Wenlocke and Melusine, his Lovely Assistant!’ She had a beautiful costume with spangles and wore a tiara with feathers. And if the accident hadn’t happened—” Masterman scowled, and jabbed his spoon into his grapefruit half so hard a squirt of grapefruit juice shot across the table. “I was going to be in the act too, as soon as I turned five. My mother would have made me a costume and everything.”
“I’m sorry,” said Emma.
“But one night they put me to bed in our room in the hotel, just as they always did,” said Masterman. “And they kissed me goodnight and went off to the theater, just as they always did. When I woke up in the morning, I thought they’d be there, just as they always used to be, having breakfast. But that morning, they weren’t.
“I waited and waited, and when they didn’t come back I called Room Service and ordered my own breakfast. I had pancakes
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