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Dan DeMille and his wife are to be in my box and we're all going up to Pettingill's studio afterward. I'm to give the 'Little Sons' a farewell supper. If my calculations don't go wrong, that will be the end of the jaunt and we'll go home happy." At eleven o'clock Pettingill's studio opened its doors to the "Little Sons" and their guests, and the last "Dutch lunch" was soon under way.
Come on; we'll face the mob and I'll do the fighting." Together they made their way into the presence of the mutineers, who were crowded into the main cabin. "Well, here's a conspiracy," cried Dan DeMille, but there was no anger in his voice. "How did you escape? I was just thinking of unlocking your door, Monty, but the key seemed to be missing." Peggy displayed it triumphantly.
On deck, watching the rugged silhouette of the city disappear into the mists, were Dan DeMille and Mrs. Dan, Peggy Gray, "Rip" Van Winkle, Reginald Vanderpool, Joe Bragdon, Dr. Lotless and his sister Isabel, Mr. and Mrs. Valentine the official chaperon and their daughter Mary, "Subway" Smith, Paul Pettingill, and some others hardly less distinguished.
Dan DeMille blamed himself relentlessly for sleeping through it all and moped for hours because he had lost a magnificent chance to "do something." The next morning he proposed to hunt for the sheik, and offered to lead an assault in person. An investigation was made and government officials tried to call Mohammed to account, but he had fled to the desert and the search was fruitless.
"I always feel devilish the moment I get a mask on," said Vanderpool, "and you know, by Jove, I haven't felt that way for years." "That settles it, then," said DeMille. "Monty would call it off himself if he knew how it would affect Reggie."
To her regret the DeMille dinner interfered with the opening of the performance, but Monty consoled her with the promise that the opera and its democratic audience should follow. During the day Mrs. Dan had been deep in preparations for her banquet, but her plans were elaborately concealed.
Monty has given us the privilege of leaving the yacht at any port where we can take a steamer to New York. Now, my suggestion is that we select the most convenient place for all of us, and obviously there is nothing quite so convenient as Boston." "Dan DeMille, you are quite foolish," cried his wife. "Who ever conceived such a ridiculous idea?"
He was still game, and he prepared for the final plunge with grim determination. "There should have been a clause in Jones's conditions about 'weather permitting," he said to himself. "A shipwrecked mariner should not be expected to spend a million dollars." The division of the party for the two sailings was tactfully arranged by Mrs. Dan DeMille.
"We hated to do it, Monty, but for your own sake there was no other way," said "Subway" Smith quickly. "We took a vote and there wasn't a dissenting voice." "It is a plain case of mutiny, I take it," said Monty, utterly alone and heart-sick. "It isn't necessary to tell you why we have taken this step," said DeMille. "It is heart-breaking to oppose you at this stage of the game.
DeMille lived at the club and visited his home. Some one said that he was so slow and his wife so fast that when she invited him to dinner he usually was two or three days late. Altogether Mrs. DeMille was a decided acquisition to Brewster's campaign committee. It required just her touch to make his parties fun instead of funny. It was on October 18th that the dinner was given.
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