“Oh, you mustn’t think of doing that,” declared Frank.
“I know that,” confessed the lad, naively, “and that’s why I spoke to you, thinking maybe you would help me break into the business respectably. See here, my name is Vic Belton and a letter directed in care of Mr. Dorsett will reach me by rural free delivery. If you have a show or are going to have one, can’t you try and give me a chance?”
Frank had to smile. He was constantly running across ambitious young fellows who saw nothing but glare and glitter in the movies line—and wanted to “break into it,” as the lad put it. Frank in a few words explained some of the cold facts of the business, which did not seem to make much impression on his lively auditor.
“That’s all right,” said the young fellow, in an offhand way; “but I may line up right to do what I want some day. Won’t you give me your address? I may want to write to you some time.”
Frank obliged the persistent Vic, telling him of the Empire at New York City and the possibility of locating in Boston. Then the surrey was ready and there was a brisk drive to Woodhill, where they had to wait nearly three hours for a train.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached Boston. It was Frank’s first view of the great center of culture. Its crooked streets confused and puzzled him as they walked the short distance from the station to the Parker House at the corner of Tremont and School streets, just a block from the famed Boston Common.
“We will not be able to do much in the way of business until to-morrow,” announced the professor as they were shown to a pleasant room in the great hostelry. “I want to show you around the Common in the morning, however. Then we will map out our programme.”
Professor Barrington was pretty well tired out with the excitement and cares of the day. Frank was glad when he announced that he would go to bed, as it was then past 10 o’clock.
“Now for it,” Frank said to himself, following out an idea he had carried in his mind for several hours. Frank went to the telephone booth in the hotel, directing the operator to call up long distance.
New York City was the connection he desired, specifically the hotel at which Professor Barrington had been a guest. Frank was at the ’phone for some time and left the booth with animated step and a bright face. He returned at once to the room upstairs. The Professor was slumbering peacefully as a child. Frank closed the door softly after him and proceeded to lift to a stand the satchel he had found, and which he had brought to Boston with him.