We have some pride left.
Wait--wait until father comes back."
With a gesture Alice consented. She sank wearily into a chair.
It was tedious waiting. The girls talked but little--they had no
heart for it. Around them hummed the noise of the apartment house.
Noises came to them through the thin, cheap walls. The crying of
babies, the quarrels of a couple in the flat back of them, the wheeze
of a rusty phonograph, and the thump-thump of a playerpiano, operated
with every violation of the musical code, added to the nerve-racking
din.
Ruth made a gesture of despair.
"Beautiful!" murmured Alice as the paper roll in the mechanical piano
got a "kink," and played a crash of discords. Ruth covered her ears
with her hands.
There was a step in the corridor.
"There's father!" exclaimed Ruth.
"I wonder what success he had negotiating a loan?" observed Alice.
Mr. DeVere entered wearily.
The girls waited for him to speak, and it was with an obvious effort
that he croaked:
"I--I didn't get it. Mr. Cross wouldn't even see me. He sent out word
that he was too busy.
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