“Heard of the Keystone Central,” he observed—“lot of watered stock and new people trying to squeeze out the old shareholders. Maybe a few dollars in these, Pep.”
But the disgusted Pep waved documents and remark away with disdain.
“Burn ’em up; throw ’em away—don’t care what you do with them,” he declared. “I am sick of the whole business. I want to forget how mean money makes a millionaire, and just get back into the gladness and bustle of the old motion picture proposition.”
“All right, Pep,” said Jolly blandly, pocketing the papers. “I’ll just take care of the documents for you. They may bob up in a new way some time; you never can tell.”
“What about moving the outfit down from Fairlands, Mr. Jolly?” here interrupted Frank.
“That’s so—my report is due; isn’t it? Why, I’ve arranged for everything. Boxed up and crated what there was in good shape, and expect they’ll arrive to-morrow or the next day.”
“By rail, of course?”
“Oh, yes. It’s a long distance, there’s a lot of bad roads and hills to climb, and freight was the only way. I left the chairs. It would cost as much to move them as they were worth.”
“We had better stock up new as to the seating feature,” said Frank, “seeing that we need double what we had at Fairlands. Well, boys, now to show you what I have accomplished.”
Frank had done so much that he held their fascinated attention unbroken for well nigh an hour. Jolly smiled and nodded his approval as Frank told in detail of his negotiations with the supply houses in the city. Pep’s eyes snapped with anticipation of the brilliant way in which the new Wonderland was going to open.