en-de  Laura Lee Hope. The Moving Picture Girls. Chapter 2. Medium
Laura Lee Hope The Moving Picture Girls Kapitel 2

RUSS DALWOOD ENTSCHULDIGT SICH

Das Portal wurde mit einem Krachen geschlossen, denn Alice warf sich Hals über Kopf dagegen und drehte den Schlüssel ins Schloss. Dann erlangte sie einen Platz an der Seite ihrer Schwester und ließ einen Arm um ihre Taille gleiten.

"Er - er wird nicht hereinkommen," flüsterte Alice. "Ich sah ihn die Treppe hinuntergehen."

"Wer - wer war es?" sagte Ruth stockend. Sie war sehr bleich.

"Ich weiß nicht", gab Alice zur Antwort. "Ich glaube nicht, dass er die Absicht hatte, hier herein zu kommen. Es war - war nur ein Versehen. Aber die Tür ist jetzt verschlossen. Vielleicht war es irgendeiner Geldeintreiber - so wie die schrecklichen Männer, die uns in letzter Zeit besucht haben. Vielleicht sind die Dalwoods auch knapp bei Kasse."

„Das glaube ich nicht, Alice. Russ macht gutes Geld im Kino. Oh, bist du sicher, dass die Tür verschlossen ist?"

"Absolut" Mach dir keine Sorgen."

"Gehen wir schnell die Hintertreppe runter zu Frau Reilleys Apartment. Sie hat ein Telefon und wir können die Polizei anrufen," schlug das größere Mächen in einem heiseren Flüstern vor und ihre Augen ließen nie von der Korridortür ab, die so ruppig aufgestoßen worden war.

„Dummerchen!“ gab Alice zurück. "Es gibt jetzt keine Gefahr mehr. Dieser Mann ist verschwunden. Ich sage dir, ich habe ihn die Treppe runter hasten sehen. Russ schickte ihn weg, na gut - was auch immer seine Geschäfte waren.“

"Oh, es ist schrecklich so zu leben!" jammerte Ruth. "Mit-mit gemeinsamem Kampf in den Hallen! Wenn unsere arme Mutter jetzt noch am Leben wäre -" "Sie hätte überhaupt keine Angst, wenn das, was du mir über sie sagst, wahr ist!" beharrte Alice beherzt. "Und ich habe auch überhaupt keine Angst. Menschenskind, Russ wohnt nur über dem Korridor, und du hast erst kürzlich gesagt, wie stark und männlich er war. Hast du das vergessen?"

"Nein", antwortete Ruth mit leiser Stimme, und wieder röteten sich ihre Wangen.

"Dann sei nicht töricht. Ich werde nicht runter gehen und Frau Reilley bitten, die Polizei anzurufen. Das würde wirklich für Aufregung sorgen. Ich glaube nicht, dass irgendjemand sonst den Tumult hörte, und das war nur, weil unsere Tür zufällig aufflog."

"Oh, naja, vielleicht ist es ja in Ordnung", sagte das größere Mädchen, das sich in diesem Notfall an seine jüngere Schwester anzulehnen schien. Perhaps it was because Alice was so merry-hearted—even unthinking at times; despising danger because she did not know exactly what it was—or what it meant. Doch sogar jetzt hatte Ruth das Gefühl, sie müsste die Mutterrolle für ihre jüngere Schwester übernehmen.

"Bist du sicher, dass die Tür verriegelt ist?" fragte sie wieder.

„Absolut! Schau, ich werde die Kette einhängen, und dann wird selbst ein Polizist Schwierigkeiten haben, hereinzukommen. Aber wirklich, Ruth, ich würde nicht zu Mrs. Reilley gehen, wenn ich du wäre. Sie wird es allen erzählen, und es scheint sich erübrigt zu haben. Es ist vorbei, und die unter uns oder über uns scheinen davon nichts vernommen zu haben."

Oh, ich wünschte, Vati würde heimkommen!"

"Ich auch, was das betrifft. Das ist vernünftig. Was sagte er", fragte Alice, "als du an Frau Reilleys Telefon hinuntergegangen bist, um mit ihm zu sprechen?" Denn ihre Nachbarin hatte eines der Mädchen heruntergerufen, als sie am Telefon erfuhr, dass Herr DeVere mit seinen Töchtern über sein Glück sprechen wollte.

"Er hatte keine Zeit, um viel zu sagen," antwortete Ruth. "Er hat sich nur eine oder zwei Minuten von der Konferenz fortgeschlichen, um zu sagen, er hätte ein Engagement, was sehr vielversprechend wäre."

"Und er sagte nicht, wann er zu Hause sein würde?"

"Nein, nur dass es so bald wie möglich sein würde."

"Nun, ich nehme an, er kommt so schnell wie er kann." Schauen wir mal, was wir zum Mittagessen auf die Beine stellen können. Wir müssen vielleicht wieder auf das Feinkostgeschäft zurückgreifen. Ich möchte, dass Vater etwas Gutes hat, wenn er mit seinen guten Nachrichten nach Hause kommt."

"Ich auch", stimmte Ruth zu. "Aber Ich fürchte, unser Kühlschrank enthält kaum Erfrischungen für ein spontanes Festmahl, und ich werde auf keinen Fall weggehen nach - nachdem was geschehen ist. Wenigstens nicht sofort!"

„Puuh, ich habe keine Angst!“ lachte Alice, nachdem ihre Laune wiederhergestellt war. „An den Kühlschrank - Angriff!“ schrie sie unbekümmert und tanzte im Walzerschritt herum.

Die Mädchen fanden kaum etwas um sich zu belohnen, und so wurde es schließlich nötig, einen Streifzug in den nächsten Feinkostladen zu machen, wenn sie ihrem Vater ein Festessen besorgen sollten.

In fact since the DeVere family had come to make their home in the Fenmore Apartment House, on one of the West Sixtieth streets of New York City, there had been very little in the way of food luxuries, and not a great deal of the necessities.

Their life had held a little more of ease and comfort when they lived in a more fashionable quarter, but with the loss of their father's theatrical engagement, and the long period of waiting for another, their savings had been exhausted and they had had recourse to the pawn shop, in addition to letting as many bills as possible go unpaid until fortune smiled again.

Hosmer DeVere, der ein Gentleman mittleren Alters war, ziemlich korpulent und außerordentlich freundlich und kultiviert, war der Vater der beiden Mädchen. Ihre Mutter war seit sieben Jahren tot, durch eine Erkältung, die sie sich beim Schauspielern auf einer zugigen Bühne einfing und die sich zu einer Lungenentzündung entwickelte, von der sie sich nie erholte.

Ruth und Alice kamen aus einer Theaterfamilie - wenigstens väterlich - denn sein Vater und Großvater vor ihm hatten beide ein bemerkenswertes theatralisches Ansehen. Mrs. DeVere had been a vivacious country maid—or, rather, a maid in a small town that was classed as being on the "country" circuit by the company playing it. Mr. DeVere, then blossoming into a leading man, was in the troupe, and became acquainted with his future wife through the medium of the theater. Sie hatte sich um ein Interview mit dem Manager bemüht und eine Gelegenheit "auf die Bretter" zu kommen", und Mr. DeVere bewunderte sie sehr.

Ihre Ehe war viel glücklicher, als die gewöhnliche Verbindung zwischen Theaterleuten, und unter der Anleitung und Unterweisung ihres Ehemanns war Mrs. DeVere eine der führenden jugendlichen Schauspielerinnen geworden. Sowohl ihr Ehemann als auch sie selbst legten Wert auf ihr Privatleben, und sie freuten sich auf den Tag, wenn sie in den Ruhestand gehen und sie sich mit ihren zwei kleinen Töchtern aus dem Licht der Öffentlichkeit zurückziehen konnten.

Aber auf der Bühne wird man selten reich - nicht halb so oft, wie man es sich vorstellt - und die Zeit schien weit und weiter weg zu sein. Dann kamen Mrs. DeVeres Krankheit und Tod, und ein Mann, dessen Herz gebrochenen war, zog sich für einige Zeit von der Welt zurück und widmete sein Leben seinen Töchtern.

Aber der Ruf der Bühne war zwingend, nicht so sehr dem Herzen, sondern der Not folgend, denn Mr. DeVere konnte wenig tun, was ihm zum Vorteil gereichte, außer Schauspielern, und allein davon, konnte er nicht leben. Deshalb kehrte er zu den "Brettern" zurück, verschiedene Engagements zur Zufriedenheit ausfüllend, und nahm seine Töchter dabei mit sich.

Rather strange to say, up to the present, though literally saturated with the romance and hard work of the footlights, neither Ruth nor Alice had shown any desire to go on the stage. Oder, wenn sie es gehabt hätten, hätten sie nicht darüber gesprochen. Und ihr Vater war froh.

Mr. DeVere war ein cleverer Charakterschauspieler und hatte eine Reihe von Rollen, die die Gunst des Publikums gewonnen hatten. Er neigte mehr zu skurrilen komödiantischen Rolle, statt zum romantischen Drama, und an mehrere seine Rollen als alter Mann erinnert man sich am Broadway bis heute. Er hatte Rollen in Shakespeares Stücken gespielt, aber er hatte nichts von der brennenden Leidenschaft, die vielen Schauspielern zugeschrieben wird, um Hamlet zu spielen. Mr. DeVere war zufrieden damit, als ihr rechtmäßiger Vormund zu handeln, nach seinen Töchtern zu schauen, und zu hoffen, dass er mit der Zeit genug für sich selbst zurücklegen könnte, und sie glücklich unter die Haube bringen würde.

Aber der Prozess des Zurücklegens war mangels Engagements öfter unterbrochen worden, sodass seine geringen Ersparnisse langsam verschwanden.

Dann kam ein Jahr der Panik. Viele Theater wurden geschlossen, und mehr Schauspieler als jemals zuvor, "lagen auf der Straße" und suchten Engagements. Mr. DeVere war unter ihnen, und er nahm sogar eine Rolle in einem Varieté-Sketch an, um seinen kargen Lebensunterhalt aufzubessern.

Es kamen wieder gute Zeiten, aber sie hielten nicht lange an und schließlich sah es für den Schauspieler so aus, als sei er dazu verdammt, ein "Schreiberling“ zu werden oder sich als Versicherungsvertreter herumzuschlagen. Er war dennoch bereit, dies zum Wohl der Mädchen zu tun.

Eine ziemlich lange, länger als gewöhnlichen Zeit ohne Arbeit führte zu einer entschiedenen Wende im Geschick der DeVerres, wenn man den Kampf gegen die Armut "Geschick" nennen kann. Sie mussten ihr schönes Apartment verlassen und mit einem bescheideneren Vorlieb nehmen. Auch einige ihrer kostbarsten Besitztümer landeten in der Pfandleihe; aber es war trotzden sehr schwer, etwas auf den Tisch zu bekommen. Und die Rechnungen!

Ruth, da sie die Hauswirtschaftlerin war, weinte heimlich über sie. Und in letzter Zeit waren die Händler nicht mehr so geduldig und zuvorkommend gewesen, wie sie es zu Anfang gewesen waren. Einige schickten selbst professionelle Geldeintreiber, die all ihre verschiedenen Täuschungen verwendeten, um ihre Schuldner zu demütigen.

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.

"Wie heißt das Stück?" fragte Alice ihre Schwester, als sie beschlossen hatten, was sie ohne Risiko vom Feinkostladen bekommen könnten. "Hat Vati es gesagt?"

"Ja. Es ist 'Eine Frage der Freundschaft'. Eines dieser neuen Gesellschaftsdramen."

"Oh, ich hoffe wirklich, er besorgt uns Eintrittskarten!"

"Wir werden einige Kleider brauchen, bevor wir Karten nutzen können", seufzte Ruth. "Ich würde mich in jedem Fall nirgends als auf der Galerie zeigen."

Nein, wir würden in einer Loge nicht wirklich glänzen", stimmte Alice zu.

"Horch!" warnte ihre Schwester. " Da ist jetzt irgendeiner in der Diele. Ich höre einen Schritt--" Dann klopfte es an die Tür und trotz allem fingen die beiden Mädchen nervös an.

"Das ist nicht sein Klopfen!" flüsterte Alice.

"Nein. Frage, wer er ist", schlug Ruth vor. Irgendwie schaute sie jetzt wieder zu der jüngeren Alice.

"Wer-wer ist es?" zögerte die Letztere. "Vielleicht ist es einer jener schrecklichen Sammler", fuhr sie in das Ohr ihrer Schwester fort. " Ich wünschte, ich hätte geschwiegen."

Aber die Stimme, die antwortete, beruhigte sie.

"Sind Sie da, Miss DeVere? Hier ist Russ Dalwood. Ich möchte mich für diesen Streit vor Ihrer Tür ein paar Minuten zuvor entschuldigen. Es war ein Unfall. Es tut mir leid. Darf ich reinkommen?"

Fortsetzung folgt....
unit 1
Laura Lee Hope.
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unit 2
The Moving Picture Girls.
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unit 3
Chapter 2.
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RUSS DALWOOD APOLOGIZES.
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Then she gained a place by her sister's side, and slipped an arm about her waist.
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"He—he won't come in," Alice whispered.
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"I saw him going down the stairs."
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"Who—who was it?"
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faltered Ruth.
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She was very pale.
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"I don't know," Alice made answer.
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"I don't believe he meant to come in here.
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It was—was just an accident.
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But the door is locked now.
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Maybe it was some collector—like those horrid men who have been to see us lately.
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The Dalwoods may be short of money, too."
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"I don't think so, Alice.
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Russ makes good wages at the moving picture place.
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Oh, are you sure the door is locked?"
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"Positive.
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Don't worry."
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"Let's slip down the back stairs to Mrs. Reilley's flat.
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"Silly!"
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returned Alice.
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"There's no danger now.
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That man has gone.
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I tell you I saw him hurrying down the stairs.
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Russ sent him about his business, all right—whatever his business was."
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"Oh, it's terrible to live this way!"
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wailed Ruth.
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"With—with common fighting going on in the halls!
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insisted Alice, stoutly.
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"And I'm not a bit afraid, either.
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Have you forgotten?"
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"No," answered Ruth, in a low voice, and again the blush suffused her cheeks.
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"Then don't be a silly.
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I'm not going down and ask Mrs. Reilley to 'phone for the police.
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That would cause excitement indeed.
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Yet even now Ruth felt that she must play the part of mother to her younger sister.
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"Are you sure that door is locked?"
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she asked again.
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"Positive!
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See, I'll slip on the chain, and then it would tax even a policeman to get in.
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But, really, Ruth, I wouldn't go to Mrs. Reilley's if I were you.
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She'll tell everyone, and there doesn't seem to be any need.
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It's all over, and those below, or above us, seem to have heard nothing of it."
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"Oh, I wish daddy would come home!"
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"So do I, for that matter.
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That's sensible.
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What did he say," asked Alice, "when you went down to Mrs. Reilley's telephone to talk to him?"
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"He didn't have time to say much," replied Ruth.
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"And didn't he say when he'd be home?"
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"No, only that it would be as soon as possible."
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"Well, I suppose he'll come as quickly as he can.
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Let's see what we can get up in the way of a lunch.
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We may have to resort to the delicatessen again.
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I do want father to have something nice when he comes home with his good news."
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"So do I," agreed Ruth.
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At least not right away!"
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"Pooh, I'm not afraid!"
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laughed Alice, having recovered her spirits.
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"On the ice box—charge!"
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she cried gaily, waltzing about.
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Or, if they had it, they had not spoken of it.
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And their father was glad.
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Mr. DeVere was a clever character actor, and had created a number of parts that had won favor.
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Then came a panicky year.
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He was willing to do this, though, for the sake of the girls.
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They had to leave their pleasant apartment and take one more humble.
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And the bills!
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Ruth wept in secret over them, being the house-keeper.
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And, of late, some of the tradesmen were not as patient and kind as they had been at first.
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Some even sent professional collectors, who used all their various wiles to humiliate their debtors.
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"What is the play?"
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"Did dad say?"
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"Yes.
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It's 'A Matter of Friendship.'
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One of those new society dramas."
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"Oh, I do hope he gets us tickets!"
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"We will need some dresses before we can use tickets," sighed Ruth.
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"Positively I wouldn't go anywhere but in the gallery now."
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"No, we wouldn't exactly shine in a box," agreed Alice.
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"Hark!"
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cautioned her sister.
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"There's someone in the hall now.
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"That isn't his rap!"
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whispered Alice.
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"No.
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Ask who it is," suggested Ruth.
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Somehow, she looked again to the younger Alice now.
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"Who—who is it?"
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faltered the latter.
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"Maybe it's one of those horrid collectors," she went on, in her sister's ear.
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"I wish I'd kept quiet."
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But the voice that answered reassured them.
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"Are you there, Miss DeVere?
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This is Russ Dalwood.
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I want to apologize for that row outside your door a few minutes ago.
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unit 138
It was an accident.
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I'm sorry.
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May I come in?"
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To be continued ...
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Laura Lee Hope. The Moving Picture Girls. Chapter 2.

RUSS DALWOOD APOLOGIZES.

The portal was closed with a bang—so closed because Alice in a mad rush threw herself against it and turned the key in the lock. Then she gained a place by her sister's side, and slipped an arm about her waist.

"He—he won't come in," Alice whispered. "I saw him going down the stairs."

"Who—who was it?" faltered Ruth. She was very pale.

"I don't know," Alice made answer. "I don't believe he meant to come in here. It was—was just an accident. But the door is locked now. Maybe it was some collector—like those horrid men who have been to see us lately. The Dalwoods may be short of money, too."

"I don't think so, Alice. Russ makes good wages at the moving picture place. Oh, are you sure the door is locked?"

"Positive. Don't worry."

"Let's slip down the back stairs to Mrs. Reilley's flat. She has a telephone, and we can call the police," suggested the taller girl, in a hoarse whisper, her eyes never leaving the hall door that had been so unceremoniously thrust open.

"Silly!" returned Alice. "There's no danger now. That man has gone. I tell you I saw him hurrying down the stairs. Russ sent him about his business, all right—whatever his business was."

"Oh, it's terrible to live this way!" wailed Ruth. "With—with common fighting going on in the halls! If poor mother were alive now—"

"She wouldn't be a bit afraid, if what you tell me of her is true!" insisted Alice, stoutly. "And I'm not a bit afraid, either. Why, Russ is just across the hall, and it was only the other day you were saying how strong and manly he was. Have you forgotten?"

"No," answered Ruth, in a low voice, and again the blush suffused her cheeks.

"Then don't be a silly. I'm not going down and ask Mrs. Reilley to 'phone for the police. That would cause excitement indeed. I don't believe anyone else heard the commotion, and that was only because our door flew open by accident."

"Oh, well, maybe it will be all right," assented the taller girl who, in this emergency, seemed to lean on her younger sister. Perhaps it was because Alice was so merry-hearted—even unthinking at times; despising danger because she did not know exactly what it was—or what it meant. Yet even now Ruth felt that she must play the part of mother to her younger sister.

"Are you sure that door is locked?" she asked again.

"Positive! See, I'll slip on the chain, and then it would tax even a policeman to get in. But, really, Ruth, I wouldn't go to Mrs. Reilley's if I were you. She'll tell everyone, and there doesn't seem to be any need. It's all over, and those below, or above us, seem to have heard nothing of it."

"Oh, I wish daddy would come home!"

"So do I, for that matter. That's sensible. What did he say," asked Alice, "when you went down to Mrs. Reilley's telephone to talk to him?" For that neighbor had summoned one of the girls when she learned, over the wire, that Mr. DeVere wished to speak with his daughters about his good fortune.

"He didn't have time to say much," replied Ruth. "He just stole a minute or two away from the conference to say that he had an engagement that was very promising."

"And didn't he say when he'd be home?"

"No, only that it would be as soon as possible."

"Well, I suppose he'll come as quickly as he can. Let's see what we can get up in the way of a lunch. We may have to resort to the delicatessen again. I do want father to have something nice when he comes home with his good news."

"So do I," agreed Ruth. "I'm afraid our ice box doesn't contain much in the way of refreshments for an impromptu banquet, though, and I positively won't go out after—after what happened. At least not right away!"

"Pooh, I'm not afraid!" laughed Alice, having recovered her spirits. "On the ice box—charge!" she cried gaily, waltzing about.

The girls found little enough to reward them, and it came, finally, to the necessity of making a raid on the nearest delicatessen shop if they were to "banquet" their father.

In fact since the DeVere family had come to make their home in the Fenmore Apartment House, on one of the West Sixtieth streets of New York City, there had been very little in the way of food luxuries, and not a great deal of the necessities.

Their life had held a little more of ease and comfort when they lived in a more fashionable quarter, but with the loss of their father's theatrical engagement, and the long period of waiting for another, their savings had been exhausted and they had had recourse to the pawn shop, in addition to letting as many bills as possible go unpaid until fortune smiled again.

Hosmer DeVere, who was a middle-aged, rather corpulent and exceedingly kind and cultured gentleman, was the father of the two girls. Their mother had been dead about seven years, a cold caught in playing on a draughty stage developing into pneumonia, from which she never rallied.

Ruth and Alice came of a theatrical family—at least, on their father's side—for his father and grandfather before him had enviable histrionic reputations. Mrs. DeVere had been a vivacious country maid—or, rather, a maid in a small town that was classed as being on the "country" circuit by the company playing it. Mr. DeVere, then blossoming into a leading man, was in the troupe, and became acquainted with his future wife through the medium of the theater. She had sought an interview with the manager, seeking a chance to "get on the boards," and Mr. DeVere admired her greatly.

Their married life was much happier than the usual theatrical union, and under the guidance and instruction of her husband Mrs. DeVere had become one of the leading juvenile players. Both her husband and herself were fond of home life, and they had looked forward to the day when they could retire and shut themselves away from the public with their two little daughters.

But fortunes are seldom made on the stage—not half as often as is imagined—and the time seemed farther and farther off. Then came Mrs. DeVere's illness and death, and for a time a broken-hearted man withdrew himself from the world to devote his life to his daughters.

But the call of the stage was imperative, not so much from choice as necessity, for Mr. DeVere could do little to advantage save act, and in this alone could he make a living. So he had returned to the "boards," filling various engagements with satisfaction, and taking his daughters about with him.

Rather strange to say, up to the present, though literally saturated with the romance and hard work of the footlights, neither Ruth nor Alice had shown any desire to go on the stage. Or, if they had it, they had not spoken of it. And their father was glad.

Mr. DeVere was a clever character actor, and had created a number of parts that had won favor. He inclined to whimsical comedy rôles, rather than to romantic drama, and several of his old men studies are remembered on Broadway to this day. He had acted in Shakespeare, but he had none of that burning desire, with which many actors are credited, to play Hamlet. Mr. DeVere 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 now.

"Who—who is it?" faltered the latter. "Maybe it's one of those horrid collectors," she went on, in her sister's ear. "I wish I'd kept quiet."

But the voice that answered reassured them.

"Are you there, Miss DeVere? This is Russ Dalwood. I want to apologize for that row outside your door a few minutes ago. It was an accident. I'm sorry. May I come in?"

To be continued ...