“Well, that’s all right,” observed Peter in his usual airy manner--“been into my show?” “Your show?” “That’s what,” and Peter poked his cap back on his head, stuck his thumbs in his armpits, and grinned at Pep in a patronizing sort of way. “Oh, I see,” said Pep, “you’re the Seaside Park capitalist I heard about?” “Did someone honest say that?” inquired Peter, his vanity immensely gratified. “Well, I have invested something--got a little money from my aunt, although she doesn’t know that I’ve gone into the show business. She’d be mad if she knew I was going to set up opposition to you fellows, for she likes you. Business is business, though. You fellows wouldn’t take me in and I had to get some other partners; didn’t I?” “Who are your partners?” probed Pep innocently. “Well, one of them is Greg Grayson. He’s from your town. You know him?” “Slightly,” assented Pep, his lips drawing together grimly. “A friend of his has invested something, too,” rambled on the effusive Peter. “Our mainstay, though, is a New York man. They say he’s ’way up in the moving picture line.” “What is his name?” pressed Pep. “Mr. John Beavers--ever hear of him?” “I don’t think I have.” “That’s because you’re new in the business,” declared Peter. “He says he’s the first man who ever started a moving picture show.” “Also a capitalist, I suppose?” insinuated Pep. “Well, he’s got a lot of investments that have tied up his ready cash, he says, but he will stand back of us if we need more money.” “Well,” said Pep, “I must be moving on. The more the merrier, you know.” “I must tell you,” hurried on Peter--“We’re going to have two private boxes in our show.” “What for?” “Oh, to make a hit. Friends, members of the press and all that--see? I say, Smith, I hope you’re going to exchange professional courtesies.” “What do you mean?” demanded Pep. “Complimentaries, and all that.” “I don’t think we are going to have any complimentaries,” replied Pep. “Our space will be for sale; not to give away. That fellow run a photo playhouse!” snorted Pep wrathfully to himself, as he left the spot. “Why, he hasn’t got the gumption to run a peddler’s cart, or a shoestring stand!” Pep reached the freight house just as his friends were leaving it. They had arranged for the reception and delivery of their traps from Fairlands to the new playhouse. This meant busy times, getting in order to open up for business. Pep told of his new discoveries as to the personnel of the rival firm of the “Natonal.” Randy flared up at once. “It’s half spite work,” he declared. “This Peter is mad because we wouldn’t take him into our scheme and Greg Grayson owes us a grudge, or fancies he does, and wants to pay it back. He and his cronies were always ready for any mean mischief back at Fairlands.” “Oh, well, as long as it is fair business rivalry, who cares?” submitted Jolly. “From the start they’ve made I don’t think they will last long.”