ere was satisfied to play the
legitimate in his best manner, to look after his daughters, and to
trust that in time he might lay by enough for himself, and see them
happily married.

But the laying-aside process had been seriously interrupted several
times by lack of engagements, so that the little stock of savings
dwindled away.

Then came a panicky year. Many theaters were closed, and more actors
"walked the Rialto" looking for engagements than ever before. Mr.
DeVere was among them, and he even accepted a part in a vaudeville
sketch to eke out a scanty livelihood.

Good times came again, but did not last, and finally it looked to the
actor as though he were doomed to become a "hack," or to linger along
in some stock company. He was willing to do this, though, for the
sake of the girls.

A rather longer period of inactivity than usual made a decided change
in the DeVere fortunes, if one can call a struggle against poverty
"fortunes." They had to leave their pleasant apartment and take one
more humble. Some of their choice possessions, too, went to the sign
of the three golden balls; but, with all this, it was hard work to
set even their scanty table. And the bills!

Ruth wept in secret over them, being the house-keeper. And, of late,
some of the tradesmen were not as patient and kind as they had been
at first. Some even sent professional collectors, who used all their
various wiles to humiliate their debtors.

But now a ray of light seemed to shine through the gloom, and a
tentative promise from one theatrical manager had become a reality.
Mr. DeVere had telephoned that the contract was signed, and that he
would have a leading part at last, after many weeks of idleness.

"What is the play?" asked Alice of her sister, when they had decided
on what they might safely get from the delicatessen store. "Did dad
say?"

"Yes. It's 'A Matter of Friendship.' One of those new society
dramas."

"Oh, I do hope he gets us tickets!"

"We will need some dresses before we can use tickets," sighed Ruth.
"Positively I wouldn't go anywhere but in the gallery now."

"No, we wouldn't exactly shine in a box," agreed Alice.

"Hark!" cautioned her sister. "There's someone in the hall now. I
heard a step----"

There came a knock on the door, and in spite of themselves both girls
started nervously.

"That isn't his rap!" whispered Alice.

"No. Ask who it is," suggested Ruth. Somehow, she looked again to the
younger Alice n