Frank was in fine spirits when he reached Seaside Park. Everything had gone famously with him in the city. He had been introduced to a man who operated a string of summer resort motion picture shows, and he had gleaned an immense amount of information. The man had reduced his special line to a science and had made money at it, and Frank was greatly encouraged. It was late in the afternoon when he started from the depot for the new quarters. He was pleased and satisfied as his eye ran over the front of the old store. Various touches of paint had made the entrance attractive, the broad windows bore each a fine plain sign, and a very ornamental ticket booth was in place. Frank found the front doors partially open, and passed the length of the great room to come unawares upon his friends in the living quarters at the rear. “Good!” shouted a familiar voice, and Ben Jolly, wearing a kitchen apron and just getting supper ready, waved a saucepan over his head in jubilant welcome. “I say, you people have been doing some work here since I left,” cried Frank, as he shook hands with Randy. “Why, where is Pep?” “There’s a story to that,” explained Randy. “He’s safe and sound, but may not be here till to-morrow or the next day.” “Gone home to see his folks?” hazarded Frank. “No, not that,” dissented Randy. “Tell you, Frank, it’s quite a long story. Suppose we get the meal on the table, and seated comfortably, and we’ll all have a lot to tell; eh?” “Just the thing,” voted Jolly with his usual enthusiasm. “I’ve got a famous rice pudding on the bill of fare, Durham, and I’ll guarantee you’ll enjoy a good home meal once more.” “That’s just what I will,” agreed Frank. He sat down and busied himself sorting some bills and circulars with which his pockets were filled. Then, as the smoking viands were placed on the table, he joined his friends. “Now then, Durham, you first,” directed Jolly. “How’s the New York end of the proposition?” “Famous,” reported Frank heartily. “I’ve made some fortunate discoveries and investments—pass the potatoes; will you, Randy?” “Hold on!” cried a familiar voice—“I’m on the programme for some of that, too!” CHAPTER XI—CROSSED WIRES “Why, hello, Pep!” exclaimed Frank in joyful surprise, jumping up from the table and greeting the missing chum with a hearty handshake. “Hold on—go a little easy on that hand,” spoke the unexpected guest. “It’s the one I hurt in that automobile accident, you know, and not quite as strong as it used to be.” “What automobile accident?” inquired Frank in surprise. “Oh, that’s so,” broke in Randy quickly—“Frank has just got back from the city and hasn’t heard of it yet. We didn’t expect you so soon. You wrote us yesterday you wouldn’t leave Brenton until Saturday.” “Humph! Had to,” said Pep with a wry grimace. “How is that?”