When it became known among that portion of the mercantile world of which Ben and Johnny were members that Mopsey Dowd, the pea-nut merchant of Fulton Ferry, had connected himself with the theatrical enterprise about which so many comments had been made, the matter put on an entirely different aspect, and it was at once shrewdly guessed that he had put in the greater portion of the working capital.

There no longer seemed to be any doubt as to the success of the enterprise, and Ben, Johnny, and Paul found their regular business seriously interfered with by those of their acquaintances who were anxious to become actors.  Had they given a position to each of their friends who asked for one, they would have been obliged to have given the entertainment without an audience, for all their acquaintances would have been employed in the theatre.

Master Dowd had foreseen this difficulty, and before he had been a member of the firm five minutes he decided that no actors outside the firm should be employed, and that Nelly should do something towards the entertainment, probably in the way of a song.  As to ticket-sellers, door-keepers, ushers, and such officers, Mopsey felt reasonably certain that Mrs. Green would consent to take her knitting and fill all the positions by sitting at the door, where she could collect the money for admissions, keep the audience in order, and keep a general eye to the safety of her house, all at the same time.

Thus, when any one pleaded old friendship, or services rendered, as a reason why they should be admitted as members of the company, everything was made plain and pleasant by referring to the mutual agreement that prevented any more actors, however brilliant they thought they were, from being engaged.

The public, or a certain portion of it, were more than anxious to know what the opening play was to be, and many inquiries were made of the first three of the partners, even before they had succeeded in procuring the material for the stage.  Finally they spoke to Mopsey about it, for they thought the curiosity of their expected patrons should be satisfied.

Owing to its being generally understood that Mopsey was an author, making dramatic literature a specialty, the other partners, advised by Nelly Green, had left the important question of what the opening play should be entirely to the pea-nut merchant.  When he was questioned on the subject by his partners, he refused to give them any information save that he was thinking up something which would go ahead of anything yet written, and that he would make the result of his thoughts known in due time.

Meanwhile the boys continued their regular business, for they had wisely concluded that it would not do to let the theatrical enterprise interfere with that which they knew would provide them a living, until the new scheme had been shown a success.

Paul had become quite proficient in the work of selling newspapers, and although he had not overcome the feeling of homesickness which would creep over him every night, he was becoming more reconciled to his lot, because each day’s work seemed to bring him nearer to the attainment of his object.

Ben and Johnny had forgotten their plan of writing a letter to some of Paul’s friends, or of proposing that he should do it, because of the great scheme of the theatre; and if either of them thought of it after it had first been spoken of, it was only as a useless labor, since, as soon as their place of amusement was open, they would all have money enough to go anywhere they wanted to.

Business had been as good as they could have expected.  Of course they did not have such a rush as they had been favored with during the first two days that Paul was in partnership with them, because the news was not so exciting; but they did so well that their board was paid for a week before they had been at Mrs. Green’s four days, and they had begun to think of adding to the theatrical fund.

Ben had heard of a small lot of timber which could be purchased for one dollar and a half, and Johnny insisted that each member of the firm be called upon for an addition of forty cents to his regular investment, which demand was promptly met.  In four days the work on the scenery had advanced so well that Johnny felt sure enough papers had been pasted together, at least until after the stage had been built, and the timber was purchased and carried into the attic at once.  It was no slight work to build the stage to their satisfaction, and the four labored hard two entire evenings before it was completed.  But when it was up, they were fully repaid for all they had done, so thoroughly business-like did it look, and such a theatrical appearance it gave to the attic.

To be sure, one end was a few inches higher than the other, and there were not boards enough to floor the space completely over; but the first defect could and would be remedied by the scenery, and the second could be gotten over by a little extra care when they walked.  Besides, Mopsey was not just certain but that those very holes could be utilized by him in his construction of the play for some very startling and novel effects.

The painting of the scenery was an artistic bit of work, which Johnny was certain he and Nelly, with perhaps some trifling assistance from Paul, could do in such a manner as would delight their patrons and cover themselves with credit.  Therefore that portion of the work was left entirely in their hands one evening, while Ben and Mopsey started out to call on Dickey Spry for the purpose of consulting with him as to how they could procure material with which to build seats, for Dickey was supposed to be quite an authority in such matters.

Very little had been seen of Master Spry by this firm of dramatic managers, authors, and actors since the night on which he had purchased his old home.  He had gone back to the business of blackening boots, as he had said he should; but he was plying his trade in Jersey City, in the hope that he might learn of the whereabouts of the boy who had ruined him.  Therefore it was only right that they should call upon him, because of their friendship, even if they had not wanted his advice.  With this twofold purpose in view they started out, fearing that they should not find him at home.

But their fears were groundless, for when they reached the hogshead, Master Spry was discovered at a feast of herrings and crackers.  He was not a boy who indulged in any useless conversation; and when he saw who his visitors were, he welcomed them by passing to each a herring and a cracker, which was really more eloquent than words.

While he was eating, Ben glanced around, in order to see what changes the new occupant had made.  The only unfamiliar thing he saw was a large sheet of brown paper tacked up at the end of the hogshead.  On this paper was printed the following notice, the letters having evidently been made by a chewed stick, with liquid blacking considerably diluted with water: 

RuNNeD AwAy

tiM DooLy RuNNed AWAy WitH all THe THInGs i had oN My PeNUT stand in GeRsey SITe an i will PAy ENNy FelleR TeN cents what will TeLL Me WHeR He is.

D. sPRy.

It is impossible to say what good Master Spry thought he could effect by having this notice put up in his own home, where no one would see it but his friends, who knew all the particulars; but it seemed to afford him a great deal of satisfaction to look at it, which Ben concluded was the reason why he had done it.

“Hain’t heard nothin’ ’bout Tim?” asked Ben, after he and Mopsey had spelled the notice out with considerable difficulty, and many misgivings as to whether Jersey should be spelled with a G or a J.

Dickey shook his head and tried to sigh; but he had such a large piece of herring in his month that he did not dare to attempt it.

“I don’t ’xpect I ever shall,” he said, sadly, as soon as he had swallowed enough of the fish to admit of his speaking plainly.  “I’ve offered to give ten cents, jest as I’ve got it there, if anybody will tell me where he is; but I don’t hear nothin’ of him.”

Ben and Mopsey sat for a few moments in silence, as if to better express their sympathy, and then the latter asked,

“How’s biz, Dick?”

“Well, it ain’t so awful good, nor it ain’t so dreadful bad,” was the non-committal reply.  “I s’pose I shall get along; but I wish I could git a holt of Tim Dooley; then I’d be pretty well fixed.”

The visitors looked as if they thought it would be of very little advantage to Dickey if he should succeed in finding the defaulter, and Dickey said, quickly, as if they had spoken their doubts,

“If I can catch him, I’ll make him pay me back somehow, whether he’s got it or not.”

It was rather a rash assertion; but Dickey spoke so confidently that his visitors thought it best not to argue the question, and Ben concluded that it was about time to proceed with the business for which they had come.  After he had explained just what it was they needed for the completion of their theatre, during which time Dickey sat rubbing his chin, the personification of wisdom, the two waited for Master Spry to give them the benefit of his knowledge.

It was some time before he condescended to speak; but when he did, it was slowly and emphatically, to show that his mind was fully made up, and could not be changed.

“I know where there’s a lot of boards that I could trade for, an’ you could put some blocks under each end of them, an’ have the best kind of seats.  But, yer see, I’ve bin thinkin’ that you oughter taken me inter company with yer, for I can act all round anybody you’ve got in that crowd.  Now I’ll git all ther seats yer want, an’ carry ’em up there, if you’ll let me come in with yer.”

It was a sudden proposal, and the two did not know what to say for some moments.  It was gratifying to them, because Master Spry was very cautious in making any venture, and that he was anxious to become a partner showed that the public looked with favor upon the scheme, or Dickey Spry would have been the last boy to propose partnership.

“But each one of us have put in seventy-three cents,” said Mopsey, hesitatingly, after he had thought the matter over for several moments.

“An’ s’posin’ I git as many as twenty long boards, an’ the blocks to put under ’em, won’t that be a good deal more’n that much money?”

Judging from the price they had paid for the timber with which the stage had been built, they knew that Dickey’s offer was a good one; and after that young gentleman had gone out into the yard in order to allow them to discuss the matter privately, Mopsey said, as they called him back,

“We’re willin’ to ‘gree to it, an’ take you in with us; but of course we’ve got to see what Johnny an’ Polly say to it, an’ if you’ll come over to the house with us, we’ll fix the thing right up quick.”

By way of reply, Dickey jammed his hat more firmly on his head, and extinguished the candle - which actions his visitors understood to mean that he would accompany them.

During the walk Ben was anxious to know where and how Master Spry was going to procure this lumber which he offered for an interest in the concern; but Dickey did not hesitate to say that he would not tell them until after the question as to whether he was to be a partner or not had been settled, lest they should take advantage of the information, and then refuse to make him an equal owner.

This seemed to cast a doubt upon their honesty; but they did not take offence at it, because Master Spry was suffering from the wickedness of a boy whom he had trusted, and it was only natural that he should be suspicious.

When they arrived at Mrs. Green’s, and ascended to the attic which was the scene of so much industry, they found that the amateur artists had made great progress in their work, although it was shown more by the dense coloring that had been put on the newspaper scenery than from any very fine effects.

Johnny had two wide strips of paper, completely covered with patches of black and green, that were to be placed either side of the stage where the audience would see them, as one sees the wings at a more pretentious theatre.  He pointed to his work with evident satisfaction, and assumed an injured look when neither one of the new-comers understood that it was a very fine representation of a forest.

Paul and Nelly were industriously engaged in coloring two other wings with alternate stripes of red and blue; but their work was not sufficiently advanced to render it possible to form any idea as to what it was, and they refused to give any information until they had finished it.

After the coloring of the scenery had been admired, and Dickey had examined with a critical eye all that had been done, Ben stated to Johnny and Paul the proposition which Master Spry had made, declaring himself in favor of accepting it.

Of course, after the advantages of this new connection had been explained, the artists were perfectly willing to admit Mr. Spry as a partner, and he was informed of the fact, with the intimation that it was necessary to have the seats there as quickly as possible.

Dickey promised to begin his labor on the following morning; and then, while the others worked on the scenery, he related to them the success he should make as an actor, provided he was given a part which admitted of his carrying a sword and shield.