The Moving Picture Girls | Page 8

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! What shall we do?"
"It--it's--" but his voice trailed off into a hoarse gurgle, and signs of distress and pain appeared on his face.
"Oh, tell us! Tell us!" begged Ruth, clasping her hands, her blue eyes filling with tears.
"Can't you see he can't speak!" exclaimed Alice, a bit sharply. She had a better grasp of the situation in this emergency than had her sister. "Something has happened to him! Was it dust in your throat on the street?" asked Alice. "Don't answer--wait, Dad! I have some lozenges. I'll get them for you!"
She was in and out of her room on the instant, with a box of troches, one of which she held out to her father. He had not moved since sinking into the chair, but stared straight ahead--and the future that he saw was not a pleasant one to contemplate.
"Take this, Father," begged Alice, slipping her arm about him, as she sank to the floor at his feet. "This will help your throat. Don't you remember what a terrible cold I had? These helped me a lot. Take one!"
Mr. DeVere shook his head slightly, and seemed about to refuse the lozenge. But a glance at his daughters' worried faces evidently made him change his mind. He slipped the tablet into his mouth, and then straightened up in his chair. Whatever happened to him he knew he must make a brave fight for the sake of the girls. It would not do