More than one way to the square

We were standing at the top of a church tower. My father had brought me to this spot in a small Italian town not far from our home in Rome. I wondered why.

"Look down, Elsa," Father said. I gathered all my courage and looked down. I saw the square in the centre of the village. And I saw thecrisscross（十字形）of twisting, turning streets leading to the square.

"See, my dear, " Father said gently. "There is more than one way to the square. Life is like that. If you can’t get to the place where you want to go by one road, try another."

Now I understood why I was there. Earlier that day I had begged my mother to do something about the awful lunches that were served at school. But she refused because she could not believe the lunches were as bad as I said.

When I turned to Father for help, he would not interfere. Instead, he brought me to this high tower to give me a lesson. By the time we reached home, I had a plan.

At school the next day, I secretly poured myluncheon（午宴）soup into a bottle and brought it home. Then I talked the cook into serving it to Mother at dinner. The plan worked perfectly. She swallowed one spoonful andsputtered（喷溅）, "The cook must have gone mad!" Quickly I told her what I had done, and Mother stated firmly that she would take up the matter of lunches at school the next day!

In the years that followed I often remembered the lesson Father taught me. I knew where I wanted to go in life. I wanted to be a fashion designer. And on the way to my first small success I found the road blocked.

I was busy getting ready to show my winter fashions. Then just 13 days before the presentation thesewing（缝纫）girls were called out on strike. I found myself left with one tailor and woman who was in charge of the sewing room! I was as gloomy as my models and salesgirls. "We’ll never make it," one of them cried.

Here, I thought, is the test of all tests for Father’s advice. Where is the way out this time? I wondered and worried. I was certain we would have to call off the presentation or else show the clothes unfinished. Then it dawned on me. Why not show the clothes unfinished?

We worked hurriedly. And, exactly 13 days later, right on time, the Schiaparelli showing took place.

What a showing it was! Some coats had no sleeves; others had only one. Many of our clothes were still in an early stage. They were only patterns made of heavy cotton cloth. But on these we pinned sketches and pieces of material. In this way we were able to show that what colors and textures the clothes would have when they were finished.

All in all, the showing was different. It was so different that it was a great success. Our unusual showing caught the attention of the public, and orders for the clothes poured in.

Father’s wise words had guided me once again. There is more than one way to the square always.