much traveling with their father when he was
engaged in the legitimate drama, for he was with a number of road
companies, that went from place to place. Water journeys were, however,
rather a novelty to them, and now that the excitement of the rescue was
over they went about the ship, looking at the various sights.

The _Tarsus_ was not a big vessel, but it was a new and substantial craft
engaged in the coast trade. A fairly large passenger list was carried
and, as this was the winter season, many tourists were heading for the
sunny South--the warm beaches of the coast, or the interior where the
palms waved their graceful branches in the orange-scented breezes.

"How is your throat, Daddy?" asked Ruth, as Mr. DeVere joined his
daughters in a stroll about the deck.

"Much better, I think," he said. His voice was always hoarse now, totally
unlike the vibrant tones in which he was used to speak his lines. "The
pain seems less. I have hopes that the warm air of Florida may improve,
and even cure it, in connection with the medicine I am taking."

"Oh, wouldn't that be just great!" cried Alice, as she clasped her arms
about his neck. "Perhaps you could go back to the real theaters then,
Daddy."

"I might," he replied with a smile at her; "but I do not know that I
would. I am beginning to like this silent 'drama.' It is a rest from the
hard work we old actors used to have to do. There is much less strain.
And if I went back to the legitimate, I would have to take you with me,"
he added.

"Never, Daddy!" cried the younger girl. "I am going to remain with the
'movies'! I would be lost without them."

"Assuredly, they have been a great blessing to us," observed Ruth,
quietly. "I do not know what we would have done without them, when you
were stricken the second time," and she looked fondly at her father. She
thought of the dark days, not so far back, when troubles seemed
multiplying, when there was no money, and when debts pressed. Now all
seemed sunshine.

"Yes, it would be a poor return to the movies, to desert them after all
they did for us," agreed Mr. DeVere. "That is, as long as they care for
us--those audiences who sit in the dark and watch us play our little
parts on the lighted canvas. A queer proceeding--very queer.

"I little dreamed when I first took up the profession immortalized by
Shakespeare, that I would be playing to persons whom I could not see. But
it is certainly a wonderful advance."

Down the ba