"What is it? Tell me, are you badly hurt?" asked Ruth. For she had known of performers who concealed injuries that they might not be laid off, and so lose a day's work. "What is the matter, Estelle?"
"It is my—my head."
"Did you fall? I didn't hear them say anything about it!" exclaimed Alice.
"No, it isn't that," and the girl looked from one sister to the other. "Oh, I wonder if I dare tell you?"
"If there is anything in which we can help you, tell us, by all means!" answered Ruth, warmly—sympathetically. "But we don't want to force ourselves——"
"Oh, no! It isn't that. I'm only wondering what you will think of me afterward."
"We shall love you just the same!" cried impulsive Alice.
"Don't be too sure. But I feel that I must tell some one. I have borne all I can alone. It is getting to the point where I fear I shall scream my secret to the cameras—or some one!"
Then Estelle had a secret!
"Do tell us. Perhaps we can help you—or perhaps my father can," suggested Ruth.