“A small but critical audience pronounced the rehearsal A.1.,” declared Jolly with a thrilling sweep of the piano keys as the three films were reeled off from the operator’s booth. “Slow on that last picture, though, Durham. It’s a good one and any audience will be glad to see it prolonged.” “Yes, being an ocean scene, I should think ‘A Wrecker’s Romance’ would take great with the smell of real salt water blowing right into the playhouse,” submitted Randy. “Where the old wrecker hails the ship in the fog I want to work in some slow, solemn music,” proceeded Jolly. “Eh? What’s that? Mr. Jolly? That’s me. What is it, lad?” A messenger boy from the hotel had appeared at the entrance to the playhouse and asked for Mr. Benjamin Jolly. He delivered a note to that individual. The latter read it, his face breaking into a delighted smile. “Say, my friends,” he announced, seizing his hat and rushing unceremoniously from their company, “rush call, important though unexpected. Back soon,” and Jolly chuckled and waved his hand gaily. He was all smiles and still chuckling when he returned, which was in about an hour. They had decided on an early supper so as to have plenty of leisure to look over things before the playhouse opened, at half past six o’clock. As a starter, they planned to give three entertainments, each beginning on the hour. “You seem to feel pretty good, Mr. Jolly?” observed Randy, as they dispatched the appetizing meal, their helpful friend brimming over with comical sayings. “Oh, I’ve got to live up to my name, you know,” explained Jolly. “Besides, always dreaming, you see. Been dreaming this afternoon of big houses, delighted throngs, pleasant surprises,” and the speaker emphasized the last word, looking mysterious the while. Frank and Randy, full of the theme of the hour and its practical demands upon their abilities, did not notice this particularly. Pep, however, eyed Jolly keenly. He lingered as his chums got up from the table. Somehow the exaggerated jollity of their lively pianist, to Pep’s way of thinking, was connected with the mysterious message he had received earlier in the afternoon. Pep was an unusually observant lad. He was furthermore given to indulging a very lively fancy. Now he went up to Jolly. Very searchingly he fixed his eye upon the piano player. Very solemnly he picked up one of Jolly’s hands and looked up the arm of his coat. “Hello!” challenged Jolly--“what you up to now, you young skeesicks?” “Oh, nothing,” retorted Pep--“just thought I’d like to see what you’ve got up your sleeve, as the saying goes.” “Ah,” smiled Jolly--“suspect something; do you?” “Got a right to; haven’t I?” questioned Pep, shrewdly. “Well,” retorted Jolly, slowly, stroking his chin in a reflective way, “I won’t say--just now. I’ll give you a tip, though, Pep.” “Yes?” cried Pep, expectantly. “About six-thirty look out for something.” “What will it be, now?” projected Pep, eagerly.