"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 hoarse
when I started to rehearse 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.
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