The Magic Egg, and Other StoriesStockton, Frank R.
Science
The Magic Egg, and Other Stories
Stockton, Frank R.
Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Another tap will take still more of the conceit out of him. Look at
him! There are his pin-feathers, and his bare spots. Don't try to get
away; I can easily tap you again. Now then. Here is a lovely little
chick, fluffy with yellow down. He is active enough, but I shall quiet
him. One tap, and now what do you see? A poor, feeble chicken,
scarcely able to stand, with his down all packed close to him as if he
had been out in the rain. Ah, little chick, I will take the two halves
of the egg-shell from which you came, and put them on each side of you.
Come, now get in! I close them up. You are lost to view. There is
nothing to be seen but a crack around the shell! Now it has gone!
There, my friends; as I hold it on high, behold the magic egg, exactly
as it was when I first took it out of the box, into which I will place
it again, with the cloth and the wand and the little red bag, and shut
it up with a snap. I will let you take one more look at this box
before I put it away behind the scenes. Are you satisfied with what I
have shown you? Do you think it is really as wonderful as you supposed
it would be?"
At these words the whole audience burst into riotous applause, during
which Loring disappeared, but he was back in a moment.
"Thank you!" he cried, bowing low, and waving his arms before him in
the manner of an Eastern magician making a salaam. From side to side
he turned, bowing and thanking, and then, with a hearty "Good-by to
you; good-by to you all!" he stepped back and let down the curtain.
For some moments the audience remained in their seats as if they were
expecting something more, and then they rose quietly and began to
disperse. Most of them were acquainted with one another, and there was
a good deal of greeting and talking as they went out of the theatre.
When Loring was sure the last person had departed, he turned down the
lights, locked the door, and gave the key to the steward of the club.
He walked to his home a happy man. His exhibition had been a perfect
success, with not a break or a flaw in it from beginning to end.
"I feel," thought the young man, as he strode along, "as if I could fly
to the top of that steeple, and flap and crow until all the world heard
me."
That evening, as was his daily custom, Herbert Loring called upon Miss
Starr. He found the young lady in the library.
"I came in here," she said, "because I have a good deal to talk to you
about, and I do not want interruptions."
With this arrangement the young man expressed his entire satisfaction,
and immediately began to inquire the cause of her absence from his
exhibition in the afternoon.
"But I was there," said Edith. "You did not see me, but I was there.
Mother had a headache, and I went by myself."
"You were there!" exclaimed Loring, almost starting from his chair. "I
don't understand. You were not in your seat."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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