So they curled up in a circle inside their covers, as near the blaze as they could lie, wide-eyed and on the watch. Each one secretly longed for his bed at home, and excoriated Isabelle with her devil's gift of invention. But after a while the hard labour of the day began to tell, and as the fire grew fainter, one by one they dropped asleep, and the shadows closed in upon them completely. CHAPTER ELEVEN At the club the Saturday night hilarity was at its height. The Country-Club set took themselves very seriously--at least as seriously as they took anything. They conceived themselves as a group, somehow set apart. They lived idle, luxurious lives. Like the lily they toiled not, which of itself was an obvious mark of distinction in a work-a-day world. In the winter they "played together" in town, at Palm Beach, or in California. In the summer they played together on yachts, or at the Country Club of "the colony." They hedged themselves in with a thick wall of prejudice against the newcomer, the outsider. Like the Labour Union, they valiantly fought the "open-shop" idea! Now, since their superiority--real or imagined--lay in the triumph of artifice over Nature; or, more brutally, since it lay in money rather than in wit; the natural recourse of the elect was to various forms of spirituous assistance. They never could have endured each other twelve months in the year without it. So, on Saturday nights a sufficient number of cocktails was served to ensure a certain hilarity, and, in case this should wear off, the bar worked steadily during the evening. So it was on the Saturday night in question, and the party was "going" very well. Wally was dancing with Nancy Horton, when Billy, her husband, stopped them. "Look here, Nance, the butler just telephoned that Teddy isn't in his bed, and they can't find him." "Rubbish! He's somewhere about. Come on, Wally." "No. Hold on a minute. They phoned the Hunters to see if he was there, and they discovered that Herbert is missing." "The little beasts! Where do you suppose they are? Do the Hunters know it?" "The servants were going to telephone them." "What do you want me to do?"--shortly. "I think we ought to go home----" "I will not! You go, if you like, and give him a good thrashing when you find him. Come on, Wally." She whirled away with Wally, who said: "Thank the Lord, my kid is a girl!" But, one by one, parents were called by the 'phone, until a sufficient number of fathers had left to make the affair one-sided. So it broke up, with loud protests on the part of the women against the tyranny of children, and the slavery of parenthood. Max grumbled all the way home, and Wally slept. But once indoors, he surreptitiously crept to Isabelle's door and tiptoed in. Her nightie was a heap by her bed, the bed crumpled and empty. He hurried to Miss Watts's door and roused her. "Miss Watts, where is Isabelle?" he demanded. "In bed, Mr. Bryce."