Part 16 (1/2)

”Why, I saw that blaze three blocks down the street,” declared a breathless urchin, coming up on a run.

”Yes, it was so bright I thought it was a fire,” echoed a companion.

It was arranged that the three chums should visit their home town next morning. Jolly was left in charge of the playhouse and told them to have a good time and throw all care from their minds, as he would be able to complete all the arrangements for the opening Monday night.

The boys had a splendid time at Fairlands. They were highly elated over their business progress in the new venture and infused their families and friends with their own enthusiasm and delight. The Fairlands weekly paper printed a nice article about ”Three Rising Young Business Men of Our Town,” and altogether as they took the train to return to Seaside Park each one of the trio felt that life was worth living and honorable business success a boon well worth striving for.

”And now for the grandest event of our life,” announced Pep, buoyantly-”the Opening Night!”

CHAPTER XIV-”THE GREAT UNKNOWN”

Pep Smith was up before the birds that memorable opening day. Pep had gone through a like experience when the Wonderland motion picture show was started at his home town, but that was a small proposition compared to the present one. To Pep's way of thinking the world was waiting for the great event. In his active mind he pictured eager hundreds counting the slow hours of the day until the first films were flashed upon the screen of the new photo playhouse.

Pep bustled about, broke into whistling and stirred things up so generally that he finally woke Ben Jolly. The latter was quite as interested as Pep in the doings of the day, only he concealed the true state of his feelings. He set about making preparations for breakfast as an excuse for rousing Frank and Randy.

”Well, Pep, this is the big day of our lives; eh?” propounded the good-natured cook, while his accommodating a.s.sistant was setting the table.

”And the finest ever seen,” replied Pep. ”I never saw such a daybreak.

It's going to be just warm enough to make people want to stay out for the evening breeze, and that means crowds pa.s.sing our place until late.”

It was a jolly quartette that sat down at the table about five o'clock.

The rest over Sunday had done them all good. No details had been left to chance or haste. Much satisfaction was felt in the knowledge that all the work thus far had been done well, with no loose ends to bother about when the programme began.

”There's some song posters to put up-they are due in the morning mail,”

observed Randy.

”Yes, and if that new film winder is sent along we might install it in place of the old one we brought from Fairlands,” suggested Jolly. ”I suppose you want to go through a test before night, Durham?”

”So as to give you the music cues? I think we had better,” a.s.sented Frank. ”Besides, we had better see that the films run smooth.”

”I sent for a piano-tuning key to the city Sat.u.r.day,” said Jolly. ”As soon as I get it I will give the instrument a little overhauling.

Jolting over one hundred miles in a freight car doesn't improve the tone any.”

Randy and Pep went out together about ten o'clock to get some posters from the printers. Frank had brought from the city quite a lot of gaily colored sheets with a blank s.p.a.ce left at the top. Here the name and location of the new playhouse had been inserted. It took the boys until noon to get these placed. They posted them in nearly all the stores along the boardwalk. The hotel they had stayed at let them put two in the lobby, and they covered the town in a way satisfactory to themselves.

”Wonder what the National people are thinking of doing?” submitted Randy, as they sat down to dinner.

”They are going to open to-night-that's one thing I know,” reported Pep.

”They're not making much stir about it, then,” observed Jolly. ”I haven't heard anybody speak about it, whom I ran across to-day.”

”I met the man who is doing their electrical work,” said Pep. ”He and I are quite chummy. He told me they were in a fearful mix-up, with things half provided for, but that they would surely open this evening.”

”What's it to be-a nickel?” inquired Jolly.

”No a dime, he says; but he showed me a bunch of complimentaries and laughed and said he'd sell them cheap. I haven't set my eyes on that Peter and the fellow from Fairlands anywhere around town, but I guess they're pitching in with the workman to get things in order.”

Wednesday of the week previous a neat postal card telling of the new photo playhouse had been sent out to every name in the little local directory of Seaside Park. The hotel men had taken a bunch of these and had agreed to put one in the mail of each guest. The local paper happened to be an exchange of the Fairlands weekly, and the editor of the latter had given Frank a letter of introduction to the Seaside Park publisher. As a result, the latter had copied the article about the chums from the home paper and had also given a glowing description of the new playhouse on the beach.