"Well, as long as I didn't, no harm is done. What about lunch? I must go back this afternoon." "I'll see you again," called Russ, retiring, for he knew father and daughters would want to exchange confidences. "It's good news, Russ!" called Alice, as he departed across the hall. "Daddy has an engagement at last!" "Glad to hear it, Mr. DeVere. I knew you'd land one sooner or later." "Well, it came near being later, Russ, my boy." "Now, Daddy dear, tell us all about it," begged Alice, when they were by themselves. "Isn't it just splendid! I wanted to get up a banquet, only there's nothing much on which to bank----" "Alice, dear--such slang!" reproved Ruth. "Never mind, better days are coming," said the actor. "At last I have a part just suited to me--one of the best for which I have ever been cast. It's with the 'A Matter of Friendship' company, and we open in about three weeks at the New Columbia. I feel sure I'll make a hit, and the play is a very good one--I may say a fine one." "And you open in three weeks, you say, Dad?" asked Ruth, thoughtfully. "Yes; or, rather, in two weeks from to-night. There are two weeks' rehearsals. But what--oh, I see. You mean there won't be any money coming in for three weeks--or until after the play has run a week. Well, never mind. I dare say we will manage somehow. I can likely get an advance on my salary. I'll see. And now for lunch. I'm as hungry as a stranded road company. What have you?" "Not so very much," confessed Ruth. "I was hoping----" There came a knock at the door. "Come!" invited Mr. DeVere, and Russ appeared. "Excuse this interruption," the young moving picture operator began, "but mother sent over to ask if you wouldn't take dinner with us. We have a big one. We expected my uncle and aunt, and they've disappointed us. Do come!" Alice and Ruth looked at each other. Then they glanced up at their father, who regarded them thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know," began the actor, slowly. "I--er----" "Mother will be disappointed if you don't come," urged Russ. "She has chicken and biscuit for dinner, and she rather prides herself on it. The dinner will be spoiled if it isn't eaten hot--especially the biscuit, so she'll take it as a favor if you'll come over, and take the places of my uncle and aunt. Do come!" and he looked earnestly at Ruth. "Well, what do you say, girls? Shall we accept of our neighbor's hospitality?" asked Mr. DeVere. "Please do!" exclaimed Alice, in a tense whisper. "You know we haven't got a decent thing to eat in the ice box, and that delicatessen stuff----" "Alice!" chided Ruth. "Well, it's the truth!" insisted the merry girl, her brown eyes dancing with mischief. "Russ knows we aren't millionaires, and with papa out of an engagement so long--oh, chicken! Come on. I haven't tasted any in so long----" "Alice--dear!" objected Ruth, sharply. "You mustn't mind her, Russ," she went on, rather embarrassed.