The Dream Merchants by Harold Robbins

what it was.
    Peter came to the door of the kitchen and looked in on them. “You’re going to New York?” he echoed Esther’s words.
    “Yeah,” Johnny answered laconically. He looked at Peter. Peter was in his shirtsleeves, the belt on his trousers loosened comfortably. Peter had put on a little weight lately, he thought. Well, why shouldn’t he? Things were going pretty good.
    “What for?” Peter asked.
    “I promised Joe I’d be down to see him and look over some of the new pictures,” he replied. “I’ll be back tomorrow in time for the evening show.”
    Peter shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to travel eight hours just to look at a couple of pictures, it’s all right with me, but I wouldn’t do it.”
    Johnny smiled. “If you did,” he thought silently, “maybe you’d understand what I’ve been trying to tell you the past few months—that this is growing into a big business.” Aloud he said: “I like to do it. You get an idea of what’s goin’ on that way.”
    Peter looked at him. A peculiarly fanatical light had come into Johnny’s eyes as he spoke. Moving pictures had captured Johnny’s mind. He ate, slept, and dreamed moving pictures. Since he had started to go into New York to buy them for the nickelodeon, he couldn’t stop talking about them. He remembered what Johnny had said one day when he had come back from the city:
    “This guy Borden’s got the right idea. He’s making two-reel films with a story in them. And there’s those other guys, Fox and Laemmle, them too. They say it’s gonna be a big business. They say some day there will be theaters that will show nothing but moving pictures, like they have now for plays.”
    Peter had sniffed at the idea, but secretly he had been impressed. All these men, maybe they had something. He had seen their pictures. They were certainly better than the combine’s; maybe they knew what they were talking about.
    He had wondered what it would be like to own a theater that showed nothing but moving pictures, but resolutely he pushed the thought from his mind. No, it was foolish to waste time even thinking about it. It would never pay off. He was better off the way he was.
    Doris came running into the kitchen followed by Mark. She looked up at Johnny, her face radiant. She had heard his voice in the other room. “Going to the park, Uncle Johnny?” she asked excitedly.
    He looked down at her, smiling. “Not today, sweetheart,” he said, “Uncle Johnny’s gotta go to New York on business.”
    Her face fell and a look of disappointment came over it. “Oh,” she said in a very small voice.
    Esther turned and looked meaningly at her husband. Peter caught the glance. He stepped forward and took Doris’s hand. “Papa’ll take you,
liebchen
,” he said. He turned to Johnny. “Wait for us, we’ll walk you down to the station.” He left the room to get his jacket.
    “Some coffee, Johnny?” Esther asked.
    “No, thanks,” he replied, smiling, “I had breakfast already.”
    Peter came back into the kitchen, buttoning his jacket. “All right,
kinder
,” he said, “let’s go.”
    In the street Mark tugged at Johnny’s hand.
    Johnny looked down at him.
    “Piggy-back!” Mark said in his little treble.
    Johnny grinned and swung the child onto his shoulders.
    “Whee!” shouted Mark as they walked along.
    It wasn’t until they had walked halfway down the block that Peter realized Doris had gone over to the other side of Johnny and was holding Johnny’s free hand. He smiled to himself. It was a good sign if children liked you.
    “How is Joe getting along?” he asked Johnny. He hadn’t seen Joe since he had quit the combine and gone to work for Borden.
    “Good,” Johnny answered. “He’s turning out some swell pictures. Borden says he’s the best man he’s got.”
    “That’s fine,” Peter said. “Is Joe satisfied?”
    “Joe likes it, but there’s one thing more he wants to do.” Johnny was trying to untangle Mark’s