Chapter Text
Caroline didn’t see how it was fair for there to be so many new people at the house, and she wasn’t allowed to talk to any of them. She was too young for everything—no one could explain why.
It was disagreeable, but no one would listen to her. People never did.
There was nothing for it but to ask Mr. Barrow. He always agreed with her except for when she was really misbehaving (which—to Caroline’s mind—didn’t happen very often).
“Can’t I go this time?” she asked, pointing at the closed library door and trying her best to appear as good and polite as possible. “Please? George went last time, and everybody else except me.”
Mr. Barrow said she could, if she promised to behave herself.
“But if you can’t stay quiet, I’ll carry you right out.”
“No you won’t, Mr. Barrow.”
“Yes, I certainly will, Miss Caroline.”
Caroline decided to believe him.
But when they got into the room, it seemed all the grown-ups could talk whenever they wanted. In fact, it was noisier than Caroline ever remembered the library being (which made her wonder if they only pretended to be quiet when she came in after tea).
She could just see Mama at the front of the room, standing with the man called Mr. Barber. She looked rather serious—any thought of saying hello vanished from Caroline’s mind. She reached for Mr. Barrow’s hand, and he lifted her into his arms.
“It’ll be easier to see this way,” he explained, as Caroline wrapped her arms about his neck.
(What exactly she was supposed to be seeing, Caroline didn’t know).
No one looked up at their entrance, except for Mr. Dexter. He was supposed to be the star of the picture, even though he only looked like everybody else. Still, he was nice enough to say hello, which most of the film people never did.
Mr. Dexter stood quickly as they approached, motioning to his chair in the front row.
“I don’t mind,” Mr. Barrow said.
“Don’t be absurd,” he replied.
So Caroline was given the chair, and Mr. Dexter stood beside it, reading over a piece of paper in his hands. Mr. Barrow stood behind her chair, which Caroline decided she preferred. If he held her up, she would look like a baby, which she wasn’t. She could sit nicely in a chair, and she would prove it.
In another minute, the room quieted, and Mama stood alone in the front of the room. A big, bright picture began to move in the center of the room. Just as soon as it started to move, Mama began to talk—except from where she stood, it sounded as if she were making the lady in the picture talk. Caroline laughed, then clapped her hands to her mouth. No one seemed to have heard, but she could feel her heart pounding in her chest at the mistake.
To prove to Mr. Barrow she understood the rules, she turned around in her chair to Mr. Dexter and whispered:
“We have to be quiet,” before looking pointedly back at Mr. Barrow. He nodded encouragingly, and Caroline sat forward again, pleased with herself.
“Is that your mother?” Mr. Dexter asked, as all the adults started to talk again. “She’s very good.”
“I know,” Caroline said.
“Did you know she could do that?”
“Yes.”
“Could you, do you think?”
Caroline considered this–-it didn’t seem very difficult to her, only sort of funny.
“I could,” she decided, “but not George.”
Mr. Dexter smiled. “Brothers can’t do anything, can they?”
“Guy!” Mr. Barber called from the front of the room.
Mr. Dexter nodded apologetically to Caroline. “Excuse me.”
Mr. Dexter did the same thing Mama had, except he made himself talk and not the pretty lady. Then Mama tried it again, then Mr. Dexter.
“Then why not go? If it bores you so much?”
“If I could, I’d fly around the world.”
“You could. That’s what you don’t realize.”
And on and on for ages.
It was a silly sort of game. Caroline decided she would rather not watch it another time…but it was difficult to get Mr. Barrow’s attention now that he was standing behind her. If she made too much noise, she’d be carried out-–which she wouldn’t mind anymore, except if she were carried out that way she’d be in trouble.
Better to wait. Anyway, the words sounded pretty, said over and over. Like a song without music. She found herself anticipating the next phrase, noticing how each time it seemed more and more like the pictures were really and truly saying them, and not Mama and Mr. Dexter.
After an age, Mr. Dexter was finished and took his place beside Caroline’s chair. The grown-ups were all talking again, so Caroline dared to turn around.
She was too late–-Mr. Barrow was talking to Mr. Dexter, who had his hands on his hips and was smiling widely.
“--starting to get the hang of it. Though who knows what people will say when they see it?”
“I shouldn’t worry.”
Caroline had turned around in the chair and was sitting up on her knees. They had stopped talking, though Caroline still felt she were somehow interrupting when she asked:
“Are you going next, Mr. Barrow?”
“I’m not in the picture, Miss Caroline.”
“Why not?” She leaned against the back of the chair. She had decided not to tell Mr. Barrow she was bored. Once he took her back to the nursery, who knew when she’d be let out again?
Besides, if she waited until all the grown-ups were tired of the game, they might let her try. She might like that better—anyway, she’d learned all the words by now.
“There’s an idea,” Mr. Dexter said. “If I can sell tickets, you certainly could.” He looked down at Caroline. “What sort of film should Mr. Barrow be in?”
Caroline considered this before saying: “Peter Pan.”
“As what, I wonder?” Mr. Barrow said.
Caroline didn’t have a chance to answer–they were making Mama do it once again. Caroline sat forward in her chair, saying the words to herself just like Mama said them.
“I would fly around the world if I could.”
“Look at her.”
Caroline straightened, murmured the lines a little louder. She wasn’t sure, but Mr. Dexter sounded approving rather than annoyed—so Mr. Barrow wasn’t allowed to get her in trouble. Not if the guests approved of her.
“She’s right on, look at that.”
Caroline turned to look at Mr. Barrow, who was smiling, though he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Mr. Dexter’s shoulder, which was right up next to Mr. Barrow’s own.
“They won’t like it if they hear her,” she heard him whisper, but Mr. Dexter shook his head.
“I shouldn’t worry.”
When Mama had finished, Mr. Dexter stepped forward.
“Jack—can we run it again, let Miss Caroline give it a try?”
Caroline slid out of her chair at once. It wasn’t very often that adults understood things without being told, and she was eager to take advantage of it this time.
One of the men at the front of the room sighed. He had been disagreeable all afternoon.
“Mr. Dexter, the equipment isn’t a plaything for—”
“—certainly not,” Mr. Dexter said. “You don’t need to run all that. But if you could just play back the film…she knows the script better than I do.”
Mr. Barber nodded, and Mr. Dexter turned to beckon her forward. Caroline didn’t hesitate in rushing forward, though she ran into a problem when she reached the front. The large pole that Mr. Dexter and Mama had spoken into, the one the disagreeable man thought was so important, was entirely too tall.
“I need to reach!” She could feel Mama’s stare and added: “Please?”
Mama lifted her into her arms (“you musn’t touch anything, darling” she admonished Caroline, even though Caroline had already heard that rule and had no intention of breaking it).
”Listen, you be the girl still, and I’ll be the boy, alright?”
Some of the people laughed, but Mama and Mr. Dexter didn’t.
“She knows every word,” he assured Mama, who agreed to do it “just once, darling, and then it’s back upstairs, you really shouldn’t be here at all.”
Now at the proper level, Caroline waited, holding her breath and staring at the still picture.
“When does it go?” she said, finally.
“Mr. Bartlett is going to run the film, and then the pictures will move.” Mr. Dexter gestured to one of the men in the corner. “He’s waiting to be sure we’re ready.”
Caroline nodded, making sure she was looking at Mr. Bartlett when she said: “I’m ready.”
It was a great deal more fun to play the game than to watch it, Caroline decided.
“Did George do it?” she asked, skipping up the stairs as Mr. Barrow followed.
“No, Miss Caroline, he didn’t.”
“Did Sybbie?”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“Did anybody?”
“No, Miss Caroline, just you.”
“You should play next time, Mr. Barrow.”
“Should I?” he said, looking over the banister as he reached the top of the stairs. He smiled, shaking his head, and Caroline peeked through the bars at the top of the balcony.
She didn’t see anything, only all the same people in the library now standing in the hall. Mr. Dexter waved at her.
“Yes,” she said. “Just ask Mr. Dexter."