minutes!” came the warning. There was a last smoothing of hair, a last tug at a costume, a last dab of powder on a painted face.
“Remember now, girls,” Mr. Trent’s hand went up for emphasis, “if you don’t want the act to flop, you gotta grab hold of the audience the minute you step out on that stage. There’s no time for a slow buildup. So snap into it! Fast and furious! And keep it like that till the finish. Get it?”
“Okay,” the girls cried.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Trent,” Jack added, very self-assured. “We’ll knock ’em dead.”
As they waited in the wings, Ella felt herself trembling. Was it stage fright? Just then Sally’s hand touched her shoulder. “Do like we rehearsed and you’ll be swell!”
“Thanks,” Ella whispered gratefully.
Onstage two comics were winding up their act to a smattering of applause. The curtain descended. On either side, a stagehand changed the placards in the racks announcing the new act. And then, the curtain was going up for them!
Their entrance music! Ella forced a smile to her lips, and with the precision born of much practice, led the line of prancing ponies out.
Suddenly, how marvelous it was! The lights—the scenery—the people out there. They had actually paid to see her.Silly though the act might be, nothing mattered now except that she was performing.
The act was going well, she could sense it. Time now for her solo. As she began, Ella could feel an immediate response from the audience. All rustlings, all whisperings ceased. It was as if out there beyond the footlights, people were caught up completely by what she was telling them. The applause at the end was like a bouquet of their appreciation and made Ella glow with happiness and pride.
When the act was over, everybody was hilariously happy. “They liked it!” “We wowed them!” There were hugs and kisses, pats on the back, and impromptu jigs all along the hallway and into the dressing room.
“It went so fast!” Ella confided breathlessly to Sally. “It seemed to be over before we even got started.” She shook her head. “To think of the weeks it took to rehearse.”
“Hmm,” Sally sniffed, “wait till you’ve done the act a couple of hundred times. It won’t be short enough.”
But for now, Ella would not let anything dampen her elation. “Yes, but at every performance the audience will be different. That should make it interesting—challenging.”
Sally’s lips twitched in a smile but she said nothing.
As the week progressed, the glow still clung. Ella did not seem to mind the long waits between shows—so much time on their hands yet never enough to get too far away from the theatre. To compensate there was the friendly exchange with members of the other acts, the fun of invading a nearby lunchroom with the troupe still in makeup and the stares of the other diners. Even the long ride home each night was not dull when shared with such a lively bunch of fellow actors.
Yet in the midst of the flow of impressions pouring in on her, the thought of Jules kept recurring like a beloved refrain. She had not heard from him all week. But tomorrow was Saturday. He was coming up to see the last show.
Her musings were interrupted by a surprise visitor in the dressing room. It was Mr. Woods and he was all smiles.
“I caught the act tonight,” he said, pumping Ella’s hand. “You were okay! Okay! You came across those footlights just like I figured!”
After he left, Ella tried hard to hold on to his words so full of promise even as the vision of Jules rose before her. Had Jules missed her? Had he been lonesome for her? Could he have gone out with someone else? A mothwing of jealousy brushed against her. Oh no! He couldn’t! He wouldn’t!
All through the Saturday-night show, Ella kept wishing she could pierce the curtain of darkness beyond the footlights. Jules was out there! What was he thinking about all this? Oh, I just can’t wait to see him!
The moment the curtain
“Remember now, girls,” Mr. Trent’s hand went up for emphasis, “if you don’t want the act to flop, you gotta grab hold of the audience the minute you step out on that stage. There’s no time for a slow buildup. So snap into it! Fast and furious! And keep it like that till the finish. Get it?”
“Okay,” the girls cried.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Trent,” Jack added, very self-assured. “We’ll knock ’em dead.”
As they waited in the wings, Ella felt herself trembling. Was it stage fright? Just then Sally’s hand touched her shoulder. “Do like we rehearsed and you’ll be swell!”
“Thanks,” Ella whispered gratefully.
Onstage two comics were winding up their act to a smattering of applause. The curtain descended. On either side, a stagehand changed the placards in the racks announcing the new act. And then, the curtain was going up for them!
Their entrance music! Ella forced a smile to her lips, and with the precision born of much practice, led the line of prancing ponies out.
Suddenly, how marvelous it was! The lights—the scenery—the people out there. They had actually paid to see her.Silly though the act might be, nothing mattered now except that she was performing.
The act was going well, she could sense it. Time now for her solo. As she began, Ella could feel an immediate response from the audience. All rustlings, all whisperings ceased. It was as if out there beyond the footlights, people were caught up completely by what she was telling them. The applause at the end was like a bouquet of their appreciation and made Ella glow with happiness and pride.
When the act was over, everybody was hilariously happy. “They liked it!” “We wowed them!” There were hugs and kisses, pats on the back, and impromptu jigs all along the hallway and into the dressing room.
“It went so fast!” Ella confided breathlessly to Sally. “It seemed to be over before we even got started.” She shook her head. “To think of the weeks it took to rehearse.”
“Hmm,” Sally sniffed, “wait till you’ve done the act a couple of hundred times. It won’t be short enough.”
But for now, Ella would not let anything dampen her elation. “Yes, but at every performance the audience will be different. That should make it interesting—challenging.”
Sally’s lips twitched in a smile but she said nothing.
As the week progressed, the glow still clung. Ella did not seem to mind the long waits between shows—so much time on their hands yet never enough to get too far away from the theatre. To compensate there was the friendly exchange with members of the other acts, the fun of invading a nearby lunchroom with the troupe still in makeup and the stares of the other diners. Even the long ride home each night was not dull when shared with such a lively bunch of fellow actors.
Yet in the midst of the flow of impressions pouring in on her, the thought of Jules kept recurring like a beloved refrain. She had not heard from him all week. But tomorrow was Saturday. He was coming up to see the last show.
Her musings were interrupted by a surprise visitor in the dressing room. It was Mr. Woods and he was all smiles.
“I caught the act tonight,” he said, pumping Ella’s hand. “You were okay! Okay! You came across those footlights just like I figured!”
After he left, Ella tried hard to hold on to his words so full of promise even as the vision of Jules rose before her. Had Jules missed her? Had he been lonesome for her? Could he have gone out with someone else? A mothwing of jealousy brushed against her. Oh no! He couldn’t! He wouldn’t!
All through the Saturday-night show, Ella kept wishing she could pierce the curtain of darkness beyond the footlights. Jules was out there! What was he thinking about all this? Oh, I just can’t wait to see him!
The moment the curtain
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