“Yes, this moving picture business is horrid,” agreed Mr. Towne, who was dripping water at every step.  “But what is a chap to do?  I tried the other sort of drama—­on the stage, you know; but I did not seem to have the temperament for it.”

“Ah, would that I were back again, treading the boards in my beloved Shakespeare, instead of in this miserable moving picture acting,” sighed the tragedian.

The excitement caused by the mishap to Mr. Towne soon subsided.  The steamer got on her way again, once the small boat had been hoisted up, and several tugs and motor craft that had gathered to give aid, if needed, went on their courses.

“Well, that’s something for a start,” remarked Alice, as she walked the deck with Ruth.

“Yes, I knew something would happen,” spoke Mr. Sneed, gloomily.  “I felt it coming.”

“How could you?” asked Paul, winking at Russ.

“Because to-day is Friday.  Something always happens on Friday.”

“Yes, we generally have fish for dinner,” remarked Russ, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You may laugh,” sneered the gloomy actor, “but the day is not over yet.  I am sure that something else will happen.  The ship may sink before it gets to Florida.”

“Oh!” cried Ruth.

“Don’t be silly!” laughed Alice, while Russ gave Mr. Sneed a meaning look and remarked in a low voice: 

“That’s enough of such talk, old man.  It gets on the girls’ nerves.  Why can’t you be cheerful?”

“I never am—­on Friday,” grumbled Mr. Sneed.

“No, and on very few other days,” commented Russ, as he went below to take the film out of his camera in readiness to ship it back to New York for development.

Ruth and Alice had done much traveling with their father when he was engaged in the legitimate drama, for he was with a number of road companies, that went from place to place.  Water journeys were, however, rather a novelty to them, and now that the excitement of the rescue was over they went about the ship, looking at the various sights.

The Tarsus was not a big vessel, but it was a new and substantial craft engaged in the coast trade.  A fairly large passenger list was carried and, as this was the winter season, many tourists were heading for the sunny South—­the warm beaches of the coast, or the interior where the palms waved their graceful branches in the orange-scented breezes.

“How is your throat, Daddy?” asked Ruth, as Mr. DeVere joined his daughters in a stroll about the deck.

“Much better, I think,” he said.  His voice was always hoarse now, totally unlike the vibrant tones in which he was used to speak his lines.  “The pain seems less.  I have hopes that the warm air of Florida may improve, and even cure it, in connection with the medicine I am taking.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be just great!” cried Alice, as she clasped her arms about his neck.  “Perhaps you could go back to the real theaters then, Daddy.”