The Moving Picture Girls | Page 3

a time yet. And we really ought to celebrate in some way,
now that he's had this bit of good luck! Oh, isn't it just awful to be
poor!"
"Hush, Alice! The neighbors will hear you. The walls of this apartment
house are so terribly thin!"
"I don't care if they do hear. They all know dad hasn't had a theatrical
engagement for ever so long. And they know we haven't any what you
might call--resources--or we wouldn't live here. Of course they know
we're poor--that's no news!"
"I know, my dear. But you are so--so out-spoken."
"I'm glad of it. Oh, Ruth, when will you ever give up trying to pretend
we are what we are not? You're a dear, nice, sweet, romantic sister, and
some day I hope the Fairy Prince will come riding past on his
milk-white steed--and, say, Ruth, why should a prince always ride a
milk-white steed? There's something that's never been explained.
"All the novels and fairy stories have milk-white steeds for the hero to
prance up on when he rescues the doleful maiden. And if there's any
color that gets dirtier sooner, and makes a horse look most like a lost
hope, it's white. Of course I know they can keep a circus horse
milk-white, but it isn't practical for princes or heroes. The first mud
puddle he splashed through--And, oh, say! If the prince should fail in
his fortunes later, and have to hire out to drive a coal wagon! Wouldn't
his milk-white steed look sweet then? There goes one now," and she
pointed out of the window to the street below.

"Do, Ruth, if your prince comes, insist on his changing his steed for
one of sober brown. It will wear better."
"Don't be silly, Alice!"
"Oh, I can't help it. Hark, is that dad's step?"
The two girls listened, turning their heads toward the hall entrance
door.
"No, it's someone over at the Dalwoods'--across the corridor."
The noise in the hallway increased. There were hasty footsteps, and
then rather loud voices.
"I tell you I won't have anything to do with you, and you needn't come
sneaking around here any more. I'm done with you!"
"That's Russ," whispered Alice.
"Yes," agreed Ruth, and her sister noted a slight flush on her fair
cheeks.
Then came a voice in expostulation:
"But I tell you I can market it for you, and get you something for it. If
you try to go it alone--"
"Well, that's just what I'm going to do--go it alone, and I don't want to
hear any more from you. Now you get out!"
"But look here--"
There was a sound of a scuffle, and a body crashed up against the door
of the DeVere apartment.
"Oh!" cried Ruth and Alice together.
Their door swung open, for someone had seemingly caught at the knob

to save himself from falling. The girls had a glimpse of their neighbor
across the hall, Russ Dalwood by name, pushing a strange man toward
the head of the stairs.
"Now you get out!" cried Russ, and the man left rather
unceremoniously, slipping down two or three steps before he could
recover his balance and grasp the railing.
"Oh, shut the door, quickly, Alice!" gasped Ruth.
CHAPTER II
RUSS DALWOOD APOLOGIZES
The portal was closed with a bang--so closed because Alice in a mad
rush threw herself against it and turned the key in the lock. Then she
gained a place by her sister's side, and slipped an arm about her waist.
"He--he won't come in," Alice whispered. "I saw him going down the
stairs."
"Who--who was it?" faltered Ruth. She was very pale.
"I don't know," Alice made answer. "I don't believe he meant to come
in here. It was--was just an accident. But the door is locked now.
Maybe it was some collector--like those horrid men who have been to
see us lately. The Dalwoods may be short of money, too."
"I don't think so, Alice. Russ makes good wages at the moving picture
place. Oh, are you sure the door is locked?"
"Positive. Don't worry."
"Let's slip down the back stairs to Mrs. Reilley's flat. She has a
telephone, and we can call the police," suggested the taller girl, in a
hoarse whisper, her eyes never leaving the hall door that had been so
unceremoniously thrust open.

"Silly!" returned Alice. "There's no danger now. That man has gone. I
tell you I saw him hurrying down the stairs. Russ sent him about his
business, all right--whatever his business was."
"Oh, it's terrible to live this way!" wailed Ruth. "With--with common
fighting going on in the halls! If poor mother were alive now--"
"She wouldn't be a bit afraid, if what you tell me of her is true!"
insisted Alice, stoutly. "And I'm not a