"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. "I--I wouldn't like to have to put one on," said the actor. His daughters knew the reason. Times were but little better than they had been in the theatrical business. Many good men and women, too, were out of engagements, and every available part was quickly snapped up. Mr. DeVere had waited long enough for this opening, and now to have to put on an understudy when the play was on the eve of opening, might mean the loss of his chances. Theatrical managers were uncertain at best, and an actor in an important part, with a voice that would not carry beyond the first few rows, was out of the question. Mr. DeVere knew this as well as did his daughters. "I'll tell you what I'll do," went on Dr. Rathby. "I'll speak to your manager myself. I'll explain how things are, and say it is imperative that you have one or two days of rest. It may be that your chords will clear up enough in that time so that I can treat them better and you can resume your duties." "Will you do that?" cried the actor, eagerly. "It will be awfully good of you. Just say to Mr. Gans Cross--he's the manager of the New Columbia theater--that I will be back in two days--less, if you will allow me, Doctor." The physician shook his head. "It must be at least two days," he said, and he went off to telephone, promising to come back as soon as he could. He did return, later in the evening, with a new remedy of which he said he had heard from a fellow doctor. "What did Mr. Cross say?" Mr. DeVere asked eagerly. "I have good news for you. He agreed to use an understudy for two days. He said you were letter-perfect in the part, anyway, and it was the others who really needed the rehearsing. So now we have two full days in which to do our best. And in that time I want you to talk the deaf and dumb language," laughed Dr. Rathby. Mr. DeVere eagerly promised. Then began a two-days' warfare against the throat ailment. Ruth and Alice were untiring in attendance on their father. They saw to it that he used the medicine faithfully, and they even got pads and pencils that he might write messages to them instead of speaking. On his part the actor was faithful. He did not use his voice at all, and on the second day Dr. Rathby said there was some improvement. He was not very enthusiastic, however, and when Mr. DeVere asked if he could attend rehearsals next day the doctor said: "Well, it's a risk, but I know how you feel about it. You may try it; but, frankly, I am fearful of the outcome." "I--I've got to try," whispered Mr. DeVere.