A knock at the door interrupted him. Before Alice could speak Ruth had gained it. She tried to close it, but was not in time to prevent the caller from being heard. "The boss says there's no use orderin' any more groceries, until youse has paid for what youse has got," said a coarse voice. "Take it from me--nothin' doin'!" "Oh!" Ruth was heard to murmur. Mr. DeVere started from his chair. "The insulting----" he began. Alice touched him on the arm. "Don't!" she begged, softly. Mr. DeVere turned aside. He slipped his arm around Alice, and, as Ruth came in, with tears in her eyes, she, too, found a haven in her father's embrace. Then the actor spoke. "Alice, dear," he faltered, "What is the address of that--that moving picture manager?" CHAPTER X THE MAN IN THE KITCHEN Let it be said of Alice that, even in this moment of triumph, she did not gloat over her victory--for victory it was. Had she planned it, events could not have transpired to better purpose. The combination of circumstances had forced her father along the line of least resistance into the very path she would had chosen for him, and she felt in her soul that it was best. But she did not say: "There, I knew you'd come to it, Daddy!" Many a girl would, and so have spoiled matters. Alice merely looked demurely at her father--and gave him the address. The girl was perhaps wiser than her years would indicate, and certainly in this matter she was more resourceful than was Ruth. But then chance had played into her hands. That meeting with Russ had done much. "Yes, I think I must come to it," sighed Mr. DeVere. "It is being forced on me--the movies. I never thought I would descend to them!" "It isn't a fall at all, Daddy!" declared Alice, stoutly. "I'm glad you are going into them. You'll like them, I'm sure." "The actors--and actresses--if one can call them such--who take parts in moving picture plays must be very--very crude sort of persons," he said. "Not at all!" cried Alice. "I was there and saw them, and there were some as nice as you'd want to meet. They were real gentlemen and ladies, even if the men were in their shirt sleeves." "But they can't act!" asserted Mr. DeVere. "I have seen bills up advertising the moving pictures--all they seemed to be doing--the so-called actors, I mean--was falling off horses, roping steers--I believe "roping" is the proper term--or else jumping off bridges or standing in the way of railroad trains. And they call that acting!" "Oh, you wouldn't have to do that, Daddy!" cried Alice, with a laugh. "Mr Pertell is putting on some real dramas--just like society plays, you know. Of course all the scenes won't take place in a parlor, I suppose. You won't have to do outdoor work, though, and I'm sure you won't have to catch a wild steer, or stop a runaway locomotive." "I should hope not," he replied, with a tragic gesture.