In this scene, the narrator gives her young protege something magical, in a box.

“There’s nothing there!” she complained.

“Look again,” I said. She peered into the box. Then closed her eyes and pressed on them with her fingertips before looking into the silver box again. She shook her head, and I saw her lips wordlessly form the word No.

“Maybe you shouldn’t look so hard.”

“Like one of those magic pictures?” she asked. Her eyes seemed to go a little soft towards the page. She would see it very soon.

“I guess. I could never get those to work.”