“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.