The girls busied themselves getting tea. The kettle was soon singing on the gas stove, the crisp odor of toast had replaced the heavier one of cabbage, and the rarebit was almost ready to serve, when a step was heard out in the hall of the apartment house where the DeVere family had their New York home.
"There's daddy!" exclaimed Alice.
"And just in time," added Ruth, as she poured the boiling water on the tea, adding to the fragrant food perfumes that now filled the apartment.
The key clicked in the lock, the door opened, and a rather imposing figure of a man entered, laying aside his hat and light overcoat, for the Spring day was a bit chilly.
"Hello, Daddy!" called Alice, putting up her face to be kissed, as she came in from the kitchen with a plate of delicately browned toast. "You're just in time. And it's such a lovely rarebit!"
"Oh, Father, how hoarse you are!" cried Ruth. "Is your throat bad again?"
"Well, this harbor dampness isn't just the best medicine for it. But I shall spray it, and it will be better."
He sank somewhat wearily into a chair as he spoke, and Ruth glided over to him.
"Daddy," she said, "you look worried. Has anything happened? Is anything wrong at the moving picture studio?"