“I hope I did right, fellows,” said Frank.

“You never do any other way,” declared Randy Powell loyally.

“Exactly my sentiments,” echoed the impetuous Pep Smith. “You’ll say so, too; won’t you, Mr. Jolly?”

“I don’t have to say it,” retorted Ben Jolly quickly, “you all know I think it. You’re a man of business, Frank Durham, and a Philadelphia lawyer couldn’t have conducted this deal in a neater, squarer way.”

“Thank you,” acknowledged Frank, slightly flustered at the compliments of the coterie of friends about him.

The new photo playhouse at Seaside Park was a certainty. When the boys came down from their rooms at the hotel the morning after the visit from Mrs. Carrington and her companion, the clerk called to Frank as he was leaving the place.

“Telephone message for you last night, Mr. Durham,” he said. “It came about ten o’clock and as it was not urgent and I did not wish to disturb you, I thought I would keep it until this morning.”

The speaker handed a memorandum slip to Frank. It read: “Attorney William Slade, on request of Mrs. Carrington, would like to see you in the morning.”

Frank showed the memorandum to Randy and Pep. The chums at once realized what it meant. It evinced the determination of the strong-willed Mrs. Carrington to have her own way. In fact the boys had come to the conclusion that she should do so. With Ben Jolly, up in their room after their visitors had departed, they had gone over the entire proposition in detail.

“You would be foolish to allow this chance to get the capital you need in this business go by,” advised Jolly. “Putting aside the fact that this lady feels indebted to you, her offer is fair, square and business-like.”

Frank thought over the affair in its every phase long after Randy and Pep had gone to sleep. Jolly and Vincent had gotten a free shelter for their rig and left the hotel to sleep in the wagon.

“Used to that, you know—the only way in the world to live,” asserted Jolly, and then they made an arrangement to meet in the morning. The ’phone message at once set things in motion. The chums had breakfast, Frank learned the address of Mr. Slade, and about nine o’clock started for his office, which was located over the bank of the town.

“You had better meet Mr. Jolly, as we agreed,” directed Frank to his companions.

“Where will you pick us up again?” questioned Randy.

“Why, I think I shall not be with this Mr. Slade more than an hour,” explained Frank.

“Say, then,” suggested Pep, “suppose we go over to the empty store you’re thinking of turning into a motion picture show and hang around there?”

“That empty store has a remarkable fascination for you, Pep,” smiled Frank.

“You bet it has,” confessed Pep. “Mr. Jolly is just as wild over it. I shouldn’t wonder if he was looking it over carefully the first thing this morning.”

“Very well,” said Frank, “we will all meet there say at eleven o’clock.”

Then Frank had gone on his way to report at the empty store half an hour earlier than he expected. He found his chums and Ben Jolly anxiously awaiting him. Vincent had remained with the horse and wagon at the barn.

There were some old chairs at the rear of the vacant building, and Mr. Morton invited them to make free use of them. It was quite a business conclave that grouped together while Frank told his story. It was clear and simple. Mrs. Carrington had instructed her attorney to advance up to one thousand dollars to Frank and his friends as needed.

“I insisted that we give the lady a bill of sale of all our belongings as security,” explained Frank. “The lawyer laughed at me. ‘You don’t know a good thing when you see it,’ he said. ‘Perhaps not,’ I told him; ‘but I know an honorable way to protect those who have confidence in me, as far as I can.’ Well, anyhow, I made him write out a memorandum of the whole transaction and signed a bill of sale. Was I going too fast in setting myself up as the one man of this very enterprising firm? I hope I did exactly right.”

And then followed the hearty sanction of Jolly and the boys to all Frank had done.

“I’m only a sort of drifter-in,” observed Jolly, “so what I say is only out of friendly interest. I would advise that just one of the firm take the responsibility, if he’s willing, on the lease and in all business dealings. It simplifies things, you see.”

“It’s got to be Frank, then,” spoke Randy.

“It will always be Frank,” echoed Pep. “He’s the brains of the business; isn’t he?”

“I don’t like the way you put it as to your being a drifter-in, as you call it, Mr. Jolly,” said Frank. “If it wasn’t for you I am afraid the Fairlands venture wouldn’t have amounted to much.”

“Sho!” derided Jolly modestly.

“It’s true. You had your way about that and drew just as little money as you could. Of course that was an experiment, and I let you have your own way. Now we are on a broader basis and I’m going to have mine.”

“Are you?” challenged Jolly, with twinkling eyes.

“Yes, sir, I am. I shall make a definite new deal all around.”

“Will you?” said Jolly.

“Don’t you doubt it. You’ve been a staunch, helpful friend and it’s equal partners, if we come to Seaside Park.”

“That is, you think you are going to make a business man of me?”

“You’ve been one all along,” vociferated Pep. “Why, that noise wagon idea alone——”

“A freak,” interrupted Jolly, but Frank was resolute and it was settled that their interesting friend should have a quarter interest in the profits of the new venture.

Frank called Mr. Morton into their confab. He explained to him precisely their plans and the extent of their capital.

“Mrs. Carrington backing you; eh?” he observed. “That makes you pretty solid, if you only knew it, young man, although I had about made up my mind to accept you as a tenant without any guarantee. Shall we call it settled—you lease the premises until October first, pay me the first month’s rent before you come in and give me your word that you won’t break the lease?”

“I wouldn’t take the place on any other arrangement,” said Frank.

“It’s settled, then,” said their landlord, and Pep followed him as he went to the window where the “To Rent” sign was placed, removed it and began to tear it up. Pep was pretty near dancing. If they had been given a palace he could not have been more pleased.

“S-st!” sounded a sudden hail and the ubiquitous and mysterious Peter Carrington came into evidence just outside the open doorway.

“Hello!” challenged Pep, who could not repress his dislike for a fellow who had played the eavesdropper and left a relative to the risk of drowning. “What you snooping around for?”

“Wanted to see you.”

“All right,” nodded Pep carelessly. “You don’t have to ‘S-st’ at me regularly to get my attention, though. What’s on your mind?”

“I see the rent sign is down.”

“Yes,” proclaimed Pep grandly, “we have leased the premises.”

“Well, I’m dead gone on being a partner. Aunt Susie discourages me, but I don’t care for that. There’s an uncle of mine over in Brenton who says he will back me if the thing shows up good, and I want to have a talk with you fellows——”

“Say, we have all the capital we need,” announced Pep.

“Oh, you have?”

“A new partner just came in.”

“Huh!” snorted Peter. “Say, you don’t mean my aunt?”

“She is not a partner, no.”

Peter looked abashed, then disappointed, then angry.

“’Tain’t fair!” he declared.

“What isn’t fair?”

“I spoke first and I deserve to have a show.”

“No one asked you to speak first; did he?” propounded Pep bluntly.

This staggered Peter. He stood thinking deeply. Then he looked Pep over and seemed to be studying something.

“See here,” he said with a half-cunning expression in his face, “I suppose you know a heap about the movies?”

“Oh, tolerable, tolerable,” responded Pep, who did indeed think so.

“And you remember Greg Grayson, of Fairlands?”

“I have a perfectly clear memory of Mr. Gregory Grayson,” answered Pep, his nostrils dilating, but Peter was too obtuse to read between the lines.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” chuckled Peter. “Anybody has a right to start a movies show; haven’t they?”

“If they want to, I suppose.”

“Well, since I can’t make a deal with that Durham, I’m going it on my own hook. I can raise the money; Greg’s father is rich and he can help. All we need is someone who knows the practical end of the business. Say, you come in with us and I’ll give you double what you expect to make with those fellows there.”

Pep doubled up a fist. He was angry clear through. At a mere hint of disloyalty to his famous friends he took fire. He gave Peter a push.

“You get out!” he ordered staunchly.

“Hey?” goggled Peter.

“And stay out!”

“Humph!”

Peter got to a safe distance. Then he shook his fist at Pep.

“Say,” he snarled, “you’ve waked up the wrong customer. I’ve given you the chance of your life and you’ve turned me down and insulted me. I’ll show you something. Greg Grayson and I will put a spoke in the wheel of that Frank Durham and your whole precious crowd; see of we don’t!”