"Hurrah!" cried Selma joyfully. "It's going. The Monstrosity is being taken away. I hope whoever gets it will appreciate its merits more than we did."
"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mr. Mickleworth, but by this time all the guests were chattering louder than ever.
Doctor Van Cott and the two Misses Mapes joined hands and danced as King David did before the Ark. Mr. Bertram Pease at the piano began to play the first selection that occurred to him, which chanced to be the Wedding March. The others clapped their hands and cheered.
"Let me out!" cried Mr. Mickleworth for the last time from his prison, but an oily apron was now pressed tight against the hole, and he caught the whispered observation:
"Say, Frenchy, you must have chucked the cat in by mistake."
He felt himself raised, jolted, tipped; he felt the chill of cold night air as it found access through the crack. He realized that he was being thrust feet first into a van and driven rapidly, he knew not where.
"And now," said Mr. Sellars, "I think we had better look for Mr. Mickleworth."
"Let us begin in the butler's pantry," suggested Cousin Laura Fanshaw, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
The Christmas party sought high and low; they penetrated to the upper floors, and not until Selma had sung "In the Gloaming" before every closet door did they give up the quest.