Free Ella of All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor Page A

me.
    “One day—one wonderful day—I must have been about ten years old, my brother took me to a voice teacher. And I sang for him.” A poignant smile played around Mama’s mouth. “He said that my voice held great promise but that I was still too young for training. He told my brother to bring me back when I was fourteen and he would be more than happy to take me on as one of his pupils.
    “You can imagine how thrilled I was.” She sighed; it came from deep inside her. “My brother was resolved to pay for the lessons. My parents couldn’t. But by the time I was fourteen, my brother was already in the army.” She halted, her hands opening in a gesture of futility. “Then he died … my one hope.… Pneumonia, they said.… And that was the end of my singing career.
    “It is something you never forget for a whole lifetime.That is why Papa and I always managed to squeeze out a little extra for your piano and singing lessons.”
    She swept a hand across her face as if to wipe away the sadness of the memory, but in the next moment, looking straight at Papa, her face suddenly seemed transformed. It was shining with pride. “But my childhood dream did not die, after all. It is alive! It lives on through Ella!”
    “So now you want Ella should make up for what you lost?” Tanta murmured.
    Mama flushed. “Oh no! It’s not like that at all. Why do you think I’ve never told Ella this before? I didn’t want her to be influenced by what had happened in my life. Ella must do whatever she believes is best for her—and for her only.”
    Tanta’s chin thrust forward, her arms akimbo. “You’re sorry, maybe?” she challenged Mama. “You think you missed something? You think maybe you would have had a better life on the stage?”
    “Of course not!” Mama returned quickly. “Only sometimes, in a fleeting moment, I catch myself thinking—what Would it have been like?”
    Smiling apologetically at Papa, she reached for his hands and cradled them in her own. “For myself, I would not change for anything! We’ve had our full share of hard times and troubles, but I’m nonetheless deeply content. I have found my great satisfaction—more than that—my greatest joy in sharing my life with Papa and in raising a fine family.”
    She turned to Ella. “But that was right for me, Ella. For your life, only you can answer.”
    “Oh Mama!” Ella threw her arms around her. “Hold fast to that dream! I won’t let you down, I promise!”
    “No, Ella, no promises. That would be a big mistake. Just do what will make you happy.”
    “And if you’ll be happy and Mama will be happy, and Tanta will be happy, then I’ll be happy, too. And the entire family will be like a bunch of happy hooligans,” Papa cried, laughing all over himself.

9
Prancing Pony
    Ella had taken it for granted that rehearsals would be held in a theatre. To her surprise, the address given turned out to be a room in a shabby old building somewhere on Sixth Avenue. It was a barnlike place with paint peeling from the walls and grimy windows looking out on an alley. A few chairs, a coat rack, and a forlorn-looking piano scarred by countless cigarette butts completed the picture.
    The company was already assembled. Ella counted eight girls and one man besides Mr. Trent and the piano player. They were standing around chatting with an air of easy camaraderie.
    Mr. Trent caught sight of her. “Hiya,” he greeted and came forward to help her off with her cape.
    A blur of introductions followed—Sally, La Verne, Marian, the fellow named Jack. But one thing did register. The girls were all young and their faces were heavily made up. As for that Jack, was he supposed to be the juvenile lead? He must be forty at least! And all that patent leather grease on his hair! Ugh!
    “Okay now, girls,” Mr. Trent called out, “let’s get started.” He pulled a chair into the center of the room and sat down, the troupe gathering around him.
    “First, we’ll go over