The Moving Picture Girls | Page 8

of my
uncle and aunt. Do come!" and he looked earnestly at Ruth.
"Well, what do you say, girls? Shall we accept of our neighbor's
hospitality?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Please do!" exclaimed Alice, in a tense whisper. "You know we
haven't got a decent thing to eat in the ice box, and that delicatessen
stuff----"
"Alice!" chided Ruth.
"Well, it's the truth!" insisted the merry girl, her brown eyes dancing
with mischief. "Russ knows we aren't millionaires, and with papa out of
an engagement so long--oh, chicken! Come on. I haven't tasted any in
so long----"

"Alice--dear!" objected Ruth, sharply. "You mustn't mind her, Russ,"
she went on, rather embarrassed.
"I don't," he laughed. "But if you'll all come I'll promise you some of
the best chicken you ever tasted. And mother's hot biscuits in the
chicken gravy----"
"Don't you say another word, Russ Dalwood!" interrupted Alice.
"We're coming!"
"I--I think we will," agreed Mr. DeVere, with a laugh.
Thus was his new engagement fittingly celebrated.
The memory of that chicken dinner lingered long with the DeVere
family. For though there was daylight ahead there were dark and dreary
days to be lived through.
As usual in theatrical companies, no salaries were paid while "A Matter
of Friendship" was being rehearsed. Neither Mr. DeVere, nor any of the
company, received any money for those two weeks of hard work.
Those actors or actresses who had nothing put by lived as best they
could on the charity of others. It was indeed "a matter of friendship"
that some of them lived at all. And for a week after the play opened
they could expect nothing. Then if the play should be a failure----
But no one liked to think of that.
The rehearsals went on, and the play was going to be a great success,
according to Mr. DeVere. But then he always said that. What actor has
not?
How he and his family lived those two weeks none but themselves
knew. They had pawned all they dared, until their flat was quite bare of
needed comforts. Tradesmen were insistent, and one man in particular
threatened to have Mr. DeVere arrested if his bill was not paid. But it
was out of the question to meet it. What little money was on hand was
needed for food, and there was little enough of that.

Mr. DeVere did negotiate some small loans, but not enough to afford
permanent relief. Perhaps motherly Mrs. Dalwood suspected, or Russ
may have hinted at their neighbors' straits, for many a nourishing dish
was sent to Ruth and Alice, on the plea that there was more of it than
Mrs. Dalwood and her sons could eat.
There were more invitations from the Dalwoods to dinner or supper,
but Mr. DeVere was proud, and declined, though in the most
delightfully polite way.
"I--I don't see how he can refuse, when he knows we are really
hungry!" sighed Alice.
"You wouldn't want him to be a beggar; would you?" flashed Ruth.
"No. But it's awfully hard; isn't it?"
"It is. Too bad they don't pay for rehearsals. And there'll be another full
week! Oh, Alice, I wish there was something we could do to earn
money!"
"So do I! But what is there?"
"I don't know. Oh, dear!"
They sat in the gloaming--silent, waiting for their father to come home.
"There's his step!" exclaimed Ruth, jumping up.
"Yes--but," said Alice, in puzzled, frightened tones, "it--it doesn't
sound like him, somehow. How--how slowly he walks! Oh, I hope
nothing has happened!"
"Happened? How could there?" asked Ruth, yet with blanched face.
The door opened, and Mr. DeVere entered. It needed but a glance at his
white face to show that something had happened--something
tragic--and not the tragedy of the theater.

"Oh, Father--Daddy--what is it!" cried Alice, springing to his arms.
"I--I--my----" Mr. DeVere could hardly speak, so hoarse was he. Only a
husky whisper came from his lips.
"Are you--are you hurt?" cried Ruth. "Shall I get a doctor?"
"It--it's my voice!" gasped the actor. "It has gone back on me--I can't
speak a word to be heard over the footlights! It's my old trouble come
back!" and he sank weakly into a chair.
CHAPTER IV
DESPONDENCY
Startled and alarmed the two girls hastened to the side of their father.
They flitted helplessly about him for a moment, like pretty, distressed
birds. As for Mr. DeVere, his hand went to his aching throat as though
to clutch the malady that had so suddenly gripped him, and tear it out.
For none realized as keenly as he what the attack meant. It was as
though some enemy had struck at his very life, for to him his voice was
his only means of livelihood.
"Oh, Father!" gasped Ruth. "What is it? Speak! Tell us!