"I don't care!" cried the younger girl, her brown eyes sparkling. "The idea of not waiting a few days with their show until papa was better; and he the leading man, too."
"They couldn't wait, Alice, my dear," explained Mr. DeVere. "Cross did all he could for me, and allowed me two days. But it is out of the question. Dr. Rathby was right. I need a long rest—and I guess I'll have to take it whether I want to or not."
Then, seeing the anxious looks on the faces of his daughters, he went on, in more cheerful, though in no less husky tones:
"Now don't worry, girls. There'll be some way out of this. If I can't act I can do something else. I'm well and strong, for which I must be thankful. I'm not ill and, aside from my voice, nothing is the matter. I'll look for a place doing something else beside stage work, until my voice is restored. Then I'll take up my profession again. Come, there is nothing to worry about."
There was—a-plenty; but he chose to ignore it for the time being. He knew, as well as did the girls, that there was little money left, and that pressing bills must soon be met. Added to them, now, would be one from the physician and Mr. DeVere would need more medical attention.
"I'm going to start out, the first thing in the morning, and look for a place," went on the actor.
"Oh, but you must be careful of your voice," said Alice. "If you don't you may harm it permanently."
"Oh I'll be careful," her father promised. "I'll take along a pad and pencil, and pretend to be dumb. But I'll speak if it's absolutely necessary. Now that there is no particular object in holding myself for the place in 'A Matter of Friendship,' and with the strain of rehearsal over, I won't be so afraid of talking. Yes, in the morning I'll start out."
"I wish we could start out," said Alice to Ruth in the latter's room, later that night. "Why can't we do something to earn money?"
"We may have to—if it comes to that," agreed Ruth. "There are some bills that must be paid or——"