these things he was meditating while with the assistance of his valet he was donning a dress-suit; afterward he descended and entered his automobile, and in half an hour they reached the dock. it was then nearing sundown, and the rain was gone, and the river was golden. van rensselaer drank in the fresh sea breeze as he alighted, and moved toward the waiting comet. steam was pouring out from the funnels of the yacht, and the captain stood at the gang-plank.

"all ready, sir," he said.

"every one on board?" inquired the owner.

"half an hour ago, sir."

"very well. cast off."

and then, amid the shouting of orders, mr. robert van rensselaer moved forward to the stern, where a dozen ladies and gentlemen were seated, wrapped warmly in coats and shawls, and enjoying the beautiful scene. they greeted him with laughter and merry[48] welcome; they had cause to be a happy party, for in america there was no host like robert van rensselaer.

and his guests were worthy of him. here was the peerless mrs. dyemandust, mistress of seventy-two millions, and of all society; here was mrs. miner-gold, worth fifty-seven and a half in her own name; here was victor de vere, leader in the smart set and wittiest man in town; here was pidgin of the great steal trust, and mergem, owner of forty-two railroads. here was miss paragon, the dèbutante, about whom the town was mad, and here was his grace the duc de petitebourse, the distinguished french visitor, who cried out that miss paragon was "ravissante—un miracle!" it is boldness merely to name such company in a novel.

"and oh, by the way," asks mrs. dyemandust, suddenly, "how did you settle the strike?"

"strike?" echoes mr. robert van rensselaer (he had forgotten it completely), "there are no strikes on the comet."