The Moving Picture Girls Part 6

"You never told us," accused Ruth.

"No, I didn't want to worry you. It pa.s.sed over, and I'm sure this will."

Mr. DeVere spoke little the next morning. Perhaps he did not want his daughters to know how very hoa.r.s.e his voice was. He left for the doctor's before going to the theater, and most anxiously did the girls await his return.

"There he is!" exclaimed Ruth at length, late that afternoon.

"But he's earlier than usual!" said Alice. "I wonder----"

Mr. DeVere fairly staggered into the room. His face was white as he sank into a chair Alice pushed forward.

"Daddy!" exclaimed the girls.

He shook his head mournfully.

"It--it's no use!" he said, and they could barely make out his words.

"My voice failed completely. I--I had to give up the rehearsal," and he covered his face with his hands.

CHAPTER V

REPLACED

For a few moments the two girls said nothing. They simply stood there, looking at their father, who was bowed with grief. It was something new for him--a strange role, for usually he was so jolly and happy--going about reciting odd s.n.a.t.c.hes from the plays in which he had taken part.

"Does--does it hurt you, Daddy?" asked Ruth softly, as she stepped closer to him, and put her hand on his shoulder.

He raised himself with an effort, and seemed to shake off the gloom that held him prisoner.

"No--no," he answered in queer, croaking tones, so different from his usual deep and vibrant ones. "That's the odd part of it. I have no real pain. It isn't sore at all--just a sort of numbness."

"Did it come on suddenly?" asked Alice.

"Well, it did yesterday--very suddenly. But this time I was hoa.r.s.e when I started to rehea.r.s.e and it kept getting worse until I couldn't be heard ten feet away. Of course it was no use to go on then, so the stage manager called me off."

"Then he'll wait until you're better?" asked Alice.

Her father shrugged his shoulders.

"He'll wait until to-morrow, at any rate," was the hesitating answer.

"Didn't going to the doctor's office help any?" asked Ruth.

"For a few minutes--yes. But as soon as I got to the theater I was as bad as ever. I had some of his spray with me, too, but it did little good. I think I must see him again. I'll go to his office now."

"No, he must come here!" insisted Ruth. "You shouldn't take any chances going out in the air, Father, even though it is a warm spring day. Let him come here. I'll go telephone."

She was out into the hall before he could remonstrate, had he had the energy to do it. But Mr. DeVere seemed incapable of thinking for himself, now that this trouble had come upon him.

Dr. Rathby came a little later. He had a cheery, confident air that was good for the mind, if not for the body.

"Well, how goes it?" he asked.

"Not--very well," was Mr. DeVere's hoa.r.s.e reply.

"I'm afraid you'll have to do as I suggested and take a complete rest," went on the doctor. "That's the only thing for these cases.

I'll take another look at you."

The examination of the throat was soon over.

"Hum!" mused the physician. "Well, Mr. DeVere, I can tell you one thing. If you keep on talking and rehearsing, you won't have any voice at all by the end of the week."

"Oh!" cried the girls, together.

"Now, don't be frightened," went on the doctor quickly, seeing their alarm. "This may not be at all serious. There is a good chance of Mr.

DeVere getting his voice back; but I confess I see little hope of it at the present time. At any rate he must give himself absolute rest, and not use his voice--even to talk to you girls," and he smiled at them.

"I know that is going to be hard," the doctor went on; "but it must be done sir, it must be done."

"Impossible!" murmured Mr. DeVere. "It cannot be!"

"It must be, my dear sir. Your vocal chords are in such shape that the least additional strain may permanently injure them. As it is now--you have a chance."

"Only a chance did you say?" asked the actor, eagerly.

"Yes, only a chance. It would be cruel to deceive you, and try to tell you that this is only temporary, and will pa.s.s off. It may, but it is sure to come back again, unless you give your throat an absolute rest."

"For--for how long?"

"I can't say--six months--maybe a year--maybe----"

"A year! Why, Doctor, I never could do that."

"You may have to. You can speak now, but if you keep on you will get to the point where you will be next to absolutely dumb!"

The girls caught their breaths in sharp gasps. Even Mr. DeVere seemed unnerved.

"It may seem harsh to say this to you," went on Dr. Rathby, "but it is the kindest in the end. Rest is what you need."

"Then I can't go to rehearsal in the morning?"

"Certainly not. I must forbid it as your physician. Can't you get a few days off?"

Mr. DeVere shook his head.

"Aren't there such things as understudies? Seems to me I have heard of them," persisted the physician.