“I declare, that is the first coherent scheme I ever knew Booth to put through,” asserted Vincent, as the advance agent took his departure. “If he sticks at this in a business-like way it looks as if he would make some real money. He goes off on a tangent every once in a while, Durham. You needn’t be surprised if he drops in some day with one of his wild schemes, like dropping free tickets over the town from a balloon.”
“Ready to go to the bank, Randy?” inquired Frank, in quite a flutter, taking the bank book from a pigeonhole in the desk.
“Yes,” replied Randy, taking a neatly done-up package from his tin cash box. “I’ve sorted out everything above fifty cents for deposit.”
“That’s right—always keep a good supply of small change on hand,” advised Jolly. “I say, Durham, what about the daytime shows?”
“We had better canvass that situation during the day,” replied Frank. “We might give it a trial, say, day after to-morrow.”
“I don’t think a morning show would pay us,” suggested Vincent. “You might work in three matinees, though, especially when the beach gets more crowded.”
Randy invited Pep to go down to the bank with him. They felt pretty good over the pleasant way things were going.
“We’re in the swim, sure,” declared Pep, animatedly.
“Yes, and drifting along most delightfully,” agreed Randy.
“Sort of a howling capitalist; aren’t you!” railed Pep, as they reached the bank, and with a due sense of importance his companion handed in bank book and money at the receiving teller’s window.