"Do we owe much more, Ruth?" he asked.
"Quite some, Daddy. But don't worry. You are not well, and——"
"No, I am not well. I feel very poorly, but it is mainly mental, and not physical—except for my throat. And even that does not really hurt. It is only—only that I cannot speak."
His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper, which the girls could barely distinguish.
"I—I must find something to do," went on the stricken actor. "I'll go out again this afternoon. Let us have a little lunch and I will try again. I'll do anything——"
"Then, Daddy, why don't you let me tell about the moving pictures?" broke in Alice. "I'm sure——"
"Alice, dear, you know that isn't in my line," replied her father. "It is very good of you to suggest it; but it will not do. I could not bring myself to it——"
He paused, and looked dejectedly at the dispossess notice in his hand.
"I—I could not do it," he added with a sigh. "I must try to get something in the line of my profession. Perhaps I might get a place in some dramatic school. I have trained you girls in the rudiments of acting, and I'm sure I could do it with a larger class. I did not think of it before. Get me some lunch, Ruth, and I'll go out again."
"But what about the rent?" asked Alice. "We can't be put out on the street, Dad."