BUSINESS BOYS
“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 if we don’t!”