She left him at the corner, and he passed on whistling softly and thinking of many things.
Mr. DeVere seemed better when Ruth got back with the medicine. And when his throat was sprayed he could talk with less effort. But his tones were still very husky, and it was evident that unless there was a great improvement in the morning he would hardly be able to go to rehearsal.
"I'm glad the show doesn't open until next week," he said with a smile. "I'd never be able to make myself heard beyond the first three rows. But I'll surely be better by the time we open."
"What did you mean by saying you had this same trouble before, Dad?" asked Alice.
"Well, it did come on me last summer, when I was taking my little vacation," he replied. "It wasn't quite as bad as this, though."
"You never told us," accused Ruth.
"No, I didn't want to worry you. It passed over, and I'm sure this will."
Mr. DeVere spoke little the next morning. Perhaps he did not want his daughters to know how very hoarse his voice was. He left for the doctor's before going to the theater, and most anxiously did the girls await his return.
"There he is!" exclaimed Ruth at length, late that afternoon.
"But he's earlier than usual!" said Alice. "I wonder——"