The Moving Picture Girls Part 8

"Never mind, don't you worry. Perhaps it will come out all right, after all. Father may get a place. He knows many persons in the theatrical business, and if he can't get behind the footlights he may get a place in front--in the box office, or something like that."

"Fancy poor father, with all his talents as an actor, taking tickets, though!"

"Well, it will be a humiliation, of course," agreed Ruth. "But what can be done? We have to live."

"Oh, if only I were a boy!" cried Alice, with a flash of her brown eyes. "I'd do something then!"

"What would you do?" asked Ruth.

"I--I'd turn the crank of a moving picture machine if I couldn't get anything else to do. Look at Russ--he earns good money at the business."

"Yes, I know. But we can't be boys, Alice."

"No--more's the pity. But I'm going to do something!"

"What, Alice? Nothing rash, I hope," said the older sister, quickly.

"You know father--"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't cause any sensation. But I'm going to do something. There's no use in two strong, healthy girls sitting around, and letting poor old daddy, with a voice like a crow's, doing all the work and worrying."

"No, I agree with you, and if there is anything I could do I'd do it."

"That's it!" exclaimed Alice, petulantly. "Girls ought to be brought up able to do something so they could earn their living if they had to, instead of sitting around doing embroidery or tinkling on the piano. I wouldn't know even how to clerk in a store if I had to."

"I hope you won't have to, Alice."

"So do I. I shouldn't like it, but there are worse things than that.

I know what I am going to do, though."

"What?"

"I'm going to look through the advertis.e.m.e.nts in the paper to-morrow, and start out after the most promising places."

"Oh, Alice!"

"Well, what else is there to be done?" asked the younger girl, fiercely. "We've got to live. We've got to have a place to stay, and we've got to pay the bills that are piling up. Can you think of anything else to do?"

"No, but something may--turn up."

"I'm not going to wait for it. I'm not like Mr. Micawber. I'm going out and turn up something for myself. There's one thing I can do, and that's manicure. I could get a place at that, maybe," and Alice looked at her pretty and well-kept nails, while Ruth glanced at her own hands.

"Yes, dear, you do that nicely. But isn't it--er--rather common?"

"All work is 'common,' I suppose. It's also common to starve--but I'm not going to do it if I can help it. Good-night!" and she flounced into her own room.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Ruth. "I wish Alice were not so--so lively" and she cried softly before she fell asleep.

Mr. DeVere was up early the next morning. He seemed more cheerful, though his voice, if anything, was hoa.r.s.er and more husky than ever.

"Here's where I start out to seek my fortune!" he said raspingly, though cheerfully, after a rather scanty breakfast. "I'll come back with good news--never fear!"

He kissed the girls good-bye, and went off with a gay wave of his hand.

"Brave daddy!" murmured Ruth.

"Yes, he is brave," said Alice "and we've got to be brave, too."

"Where are you going?" asked Ruth, as she saw her sister dressing for the street.

"Out."

"Out where? I must know."

"Well, if you must, I'm going to make the rounds of the manicuring parlors."

"Oh, Alice, I hate to have you do it. Some of those places where men go----"

"I'm only going to apply at the ladies' parlors."

"Oh, well, I--I suppose it's the only thing to do."

"And if worse comes to worst!" cried Alice, gaily, "I'll get some orange-sticks and we'll stew them for soup. It can't be much worse than boot-leg consomme."

"Oh, Alice!" cried Ruth. "You are hopeless."

"Hopeless--but not--helpless! _Auf Wiedersehen!_"

But in spite of her gay laugh as she closed the hall door after her, Alice DeVere's face wore a look of despondency. She knew how little chance she stood in New York--in big New York.

And perhaps it was this despondent look that caused Russ Dalwood to utter an exclamation as he met her down at the street door of the apartment house.

"What's the matter?" Alice replied to his startled e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. "Is my hat on crooked; or did one of my feathers get into your eye?

Foolish styles; aren't they?"

"No--nothing like that; only you looked--say, Alice, has anything happened?"

"Yes, Russ, there is something the matter," replied Alice, frankly.

"Do you know of anybody who wants a young lady to do anything--that a young lady, such as I, could do?"

He laughed.

"I'm serious," she said, and a glance at her pretty face confirmed this. There was a resolute look in her brown eyes.

"Are you looking for work?" Russ asked.

"I am. I was thinking of trying to be a manicurist----"

He made a gesture of disapproval.