Free The Minstrel's Melody by Eleanora E. Tate Page A

and dancin.’”
    Madame Meritta continued to argue with Othello, Artimus, and Laphet. Orphelia thought of something else. “Madame Meritta, ma’am,” she broke in as politely as she could. “I have a newspaper article with a picture of you singing with the Magnificent Missouri Colored Minstrels. You were maybe thirteen or fourteen, but you wore a baby bonnet and a baby gown and you had a rattle in your hand. The paper said all minstrel shows had a person who played that character. Can’t I play that in your show, too?”
    Madame Meritta’s hazel eyes got so dark they looked black. “You obviously are too ignorant to know that that ‘character’ is an insult to our race. It’s meant to degrade and poke fun at black children. When I was old enough not to have to perform in that capacity, I stopped. No one—absolutely no one—in my shows has ever performed as one of those, and you won’t, either. Orphelia, please understand that your talent isn’t the issue. Show business is the issue. This life isn’t for a child. You’ll have no playmates, no schooling, no free time, no—”
    â€œI don’t mean to sound sassy, but I hear that your shows aren’t making much money right now. Without me, you won’t have a featured act, like what Mr. Othello just said, and then you’ll make even less because the people’ll want their money back, won’t they?”
    Madame Meritta jerked her head back like Orphelia had slapped her. “Who told you that?”
    Orphelia pointed at Othello, who nodded. Madame Meritta threw Othello a frown that gave her pretty face more wrinkles than a raisin.
    â€œMadame, we need this girl,” Othello said in a soothing voice. “Just for this afternoon. If no one says anything to the sheriff about her, then no one will know. She’ll be much easier to work with than that old hateful Lillian. Better piano player, too. I’ll never know what you saw in that woman. Madame, we—let’s take a walk.”
    They went behind the equipment wagon. Orphelia stood nearby, watching their lips move as they whispered and shook fingers at each other. Artimus, Laphet, and the other musicians went back to packing their gear.
    When she peeked at them again, Othello was smiling. Madame Meritta gave out a long, loud “Oh, all right, Othello!”
    Was that a good sign? When Madame Meritta called her name, Orphelia hurried over. She wiped her sweaty face with her hands and tried to think of what to say next in her favor if the news was not good.
    â€œAll right, you can perform—just this one time,” Madame Meritta said.
    â€œOh, thank you!” Orphelia wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist, which smelled like lavender and talcum powder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
    â€œAs soon as we find an office, we’re sending a telegram to your family, and first thing tomorrow morning, you’re getting on that train. You understand?”
    â€œYou won’t be sorry. I’ll be so good! I’ll—”
    â€œYou’ll hold your tongue is what you’ll do,” Madame Meritta said sternly. She tilted Orphelia’s face up with her finger and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Don’t you ever tell anybody that my shows don’t make money, you hear? This is serious business, and you know nothing about my kind of audiences, no matter what your sassy little tongue says.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Orphelia said. She hugged Madame Meritta again. Her chance—her chance at last!
    â€œIt’s a mystery how you can win over Othello and me but you can’t get your mother to accept your music, eh?” Madame Meritta teasingly pinched her on the cheek.
    Orphelia stared back at her somberly. “Momma doesn’t understand that I just got to play my piano and sing, no matter what. It’s like the songs gotta come twisting out of