insisted.
They were speaking very softly, not wanting the steady stream of viewers to overhear. Jack dropped his voice even further, saying, “I have the keys. Both of them.” Jack was always prepared; he had the magic key and the key he had secretly copied months ago from Mr. Bell’s museum keys, the one that opened the locked doors to the access corridors that ran behind all the rooms.
“But how can we do it? My mom’s here!” At the thought of shrinking with her mother so close by, Ruthie felt her palms turn clammy. This wasn’t something she’d planned on today.
At that moment her mother appeared around the corner.
“There you two are. Ruthie, you were right! Now I understand why you’ve been so bewitched by these rooms!” As her mother said the word
bewitched
, Mrs. McVittie smiled at Ruthie.
“Exactly! Magic! Right, Ruthie?” Mrs. McVittie said.
“Minerva tells me that she was about your age the first time she saw these rooms!” her mother went on. Ruthie tried to smile blankly as though she wasn’t really interested in such ancient history. In fact, she knew far more than her mother about Mrs. McVittie and her magical visit in the Thorne Rooms so many years ago.
“Mrs. McVittie, let me show you something,” Jack broke in, taking her arm and guiding her away from Ruthie and her mother.
“Why don’t we go back to the beginning and you can show me the ones you like best?” Ruthie’s mom suggested. That was the last thing Ruthie wanted to do at the moment. She only hoped that Jack would come back and interrupt them—soon.
They walked along, following the European rooms in order, her mother pointing out details that Ruthie knew so well: the candle stand from the castle room, E16, that Jack had used to fight off the cockroach; the ornately carved cabinet from E17 where she had discovered Mr. Bell’s photo album; the cozy French bedroom, E22, where she and Jack had found the clothes from that time. She had to bite her tongue as she gazed into the rooms, reminding herself that her mother knew nothing about her adventures.
“This might be my favorite one yet: the French Revolutionary period!” her mother said. It was E24, Sophie’s room. Ruthie tried not to overreact as she viewed the many-drawered desk she had sat at, with Sophie’s journal right where she’d left it.
“The view through the windows is wonderful too.” Her mother pointed to the painted dioramas that allowed glimpses of the outdoors. Ruthie spied eighteenth-century France from beyond the balcony curtains. Silently she relived the moment when she had first discovered thepainted exterior was alive—when she and Jack had stepped out into that world and met Sophie. How strange it felt now to be standing outside looking in! Even without the necessity of retrieving the bento box and the letter, looking at the rooms like this made her realize that she wanted more adventures in them. There was so much exploring to do!
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes—although it felt much longer to Ruthie—before Jack and Mrs. McVittie reappeared alongside them. Mrs. McVittie held a linen handkerchief to her forehead.
“Minerva, are you feeling all right?” Ruthie’s mom asked.
“Helen, would you take me to the ladies’ room? I think I need to sit for a few minutes.” Mrs. McVittie’s voice sounded weak.
“Are you sure? I could take you home,” she offered.
“No, no; it’s just a little spell. There’s a comfortable bench in there. I’ll be fine if you keep me company until it passes,” Mrs. McVittie assured her.
“She’s totally faking,” Jack explained as soon as the two women were out of the exhibition. “I told her everything. We have about fifteen, twenty minutes, max!”
Ruthie and Jack quickly backtracked to the little alcove that held the locked door to the European rooms’ access corridor. The Thorne Rooms are displayed in Gallery 11 in two parts: the European rooms are installed along the
They were speaking very softly, not wanting the steady stream of viewers to overhear. Jack dropped his voice even further, saying, “I have the keys. Both of them.” Jack was always prepared; he had the magic key and the key he had secretly copied months ago from Mr. Bell’s museum keys, the one that opened the locked doors to the access corridors that ran behind all the rooms.
“But how can we do it? My mom’s here!” At the thought of shrinking with her mother so close by, Ruthie felt her palms turn clammy. This wasn’t something she’d planned on today.
At that moment her mother appeared around the corner.
“There you two are. Ruthie, you were right! Now I understand why you’ve been so bewitched by these rooms!” As her mother said the word
bewitched
, Mrs. McVittie smiled at Ruthie.
“Exactly! Magic! Right, Ruthie?” Mrs. McVittie said.
“Minerva tells me that she was about your age the first time she saw these rooms!” her mother went on. Ruthie tried to smile blankly as though she wasn’t really interested in such ancient history. In fact, she knew far more than her mother about Mrs. McVittie and her magical visit in the Thorne Rooms so many years ago.
“Mrs. McVittie, let me show you something,” Jack broke in, taking her arm and guiding her away from Ruthie and her mother.
“Why don’t we go back to the beginning and you can show me the ones you like best?” Ruthie’s mom suggested. That was the last thing Ruthie wanted to do at the moment. She only hoped that Jack would come back and interrupt them—soon.
They walked along, following the European rooms in order, her mother pointing out details that Ruthie knew so well: the candle stand from the castle room, E16, that Jack had used to fight off the cockroach; the ornately carved cabinet from E17 where she had discovered Mr. Bell’s photo album; the cozy French bedroom, E22, where she and Jack had found the clothes from that time. She had to bite her tongue as she gazed into the rooms, reminding herself that her mother knew nothing about her adventures.
“This might be my favorite one yet: the French Revolutionary period!” her mother said. It was E24, Sophie’s room. Ruthie tried not to overreact as she viewed the many-drawered desk she had sat at, with Sophie’s journal right where she’d left it.
“The view through the windows is wonderful too.” Her mother pointed to the painted dioramas that allowed glimpses of the outdoors. Ruthie spied eighteenth-century France from beyond the balcony curtains. Silently she relived the moment when she had first discovered thepainted exterior was alive—when she and Jack had stepped out into that world and met Sophie. How strange it felt now to be standing outside looking in! Even without the necessity of retrieving the bento box and the letter, looking at the rooms like this made her realize that she wanted more adventures in them. There was so much exploring to do!
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes—although it felt much longer to Ruthie—before Jack and Mrs. McVittie reappeared alongside them. Mrs. McVittie held a linen handkerchief to her forehead.
“Minerva, are you feeling all right?” Ruthie’s mom asked.
“Helen, would you take me to the ladies’ room? I think I need to sit for a few minutes.” Mrs. McVittie’s voice sounded weak.
“Are you sure? I could take you home,” she offered.
“No, no; it’s just a little spell. There’s a comfortable bench in there. I’ll be fine if you keep me company until it passes,” Mrs. McVittie assured her.
“She’s totally faking,” Jack explained as soon as the two women were out of the exhibition. “I told her everything. We have about fifteen, twenty minutes, max!”
Ruthie and Jack quickly backtracked to the little alcove that held the locked door to the European rooms’ access corridor. The Thorne Rooms are displayed in Gallery 11 in two parts: the European rooms are installed along the
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