“A dime wouldn’t make any difference until I get my settlement from the people who sent me out to starve,” insisted Vincent. Frank was interested in the odd, airy individual, who struck him as a rather obsolete type of the fraternity. He smiled, and this was encouragement for the frayed actor, who touched his hat again and extended his gloved hand, this time towards Frank, with the words: “Surely we have met somewhere on the boards? Was it in Philadelphia, when I was press agent for the United Thespian? Perhaps that will assist your memory.” Frank good-naturedly accepted and glanced over a very dirty and worn card bearing the inscription: “Roderick James Booth: Press Agent.” Frank shook his head, “I have not had the honor of meeting you before, Mr. Booth,” he said. “In the line, I suppose?” insinuated Booth. “If you mean of theatricals—hardly,” replied Frank. “I have done a little in the motion picture field.” “Ah!” exclaimed Booth, with great animation, striking a pose—“there, indeed, is a field. Young man; I proclaim a wonderful future for the photo playhouse. Let me see, where are you located now—and the name, I didn’t quite catch the name?” “I am Frank Durham,” replied our young hero, “and with some others expect to open a new motion picture show at Seaside Park.” “Ah, a hit! Think of it! Beside the soothing waves, dancing breezes, vast throngs, stupendous profits. Only one thing lacking—an able press agent. Sir,” and Booth raised himself to his loftiest height, “I papered Baltimore till the house was jammed. The United Thespians—sir, a moment, aside. Mr. Vincent will pardon us. Could you anticipate——” Frank knew what was coming. The man did not look like a drinker and he did look hungry. Vincent nudged Frank warningly, but Frank could not resist a generous impulse. Mr. Booth almost danced as a crisp dollar bill was placed in his hand. Then he took out a pencil and memorandum book. Very carefully and laboriously he began to write: “Durham, Seaside Park. I. O. U. one dollar. Mem: suggest plan for publicity campaign.” “You’ve put your foot in it this time, Durham,” exclaimed Vincent almost wrathfully, as with a great flourish Booth went on his way. “Oh, pshaw!” laughed Frank, “the poor fellow probably needs a square meal.” “Yes, but you needn’t have told him who you were and about the new Wonderland. Why, within an hour he will be telling his friends of a new opening at Seaside Park—engaged for the season—forfeit money already paid. Besides that, I wouldn’t wonder to see him put in an appearance personally with one of his wild publicity schemes direct at Seaside Park. Oh, you can laugh, but once he sets out on your trail, and you encourage him, you’ll find it no easy matter to shake him off,” a prediction by the way that Frank and his chums had reason to recall a little later.