"Yes, we've had a big advance sale," replied the treasurer.
"And DeVere can't do it."
"No. I'll have to put his understudy in until we can cast someone else. I'll tell him."
The actor must have guessed what was coming, for he was washing off his make-up in the dressing-room when the manager entered.
"I'm awfully sorry about this, DeVere," began Mr. Cross. "But I'm afraid you won't be able to go on Monday night."
"No, Mr. Cross, I myself am of the same opinion. My voice has failed me utterly."
"And yet—and yet—you understand how it is. We must open on time."
"Yes, I know. The show must go on—the show must go on."'
"And the only way——"
"Is to replace me. I know. You can't help it, Mr. Cross. I know just how it is. It isn't your fault—it's my misfortune. I thank you for your patience. You'll have to—to replace me. It's the only thing to do. And yet," he added so softly that the manager did not hear "what am I to do? What are my daughters to do?"