“Never mind about that,” said the captain. “I claim the privilege of bearing it for the party. How many will go?”
“The Dolphin could hardly be made to hold us all, papa,” laughed Grace.
“No; nor to cross the plains and mountains,” returned her father with an amused smile. “We would go by rail and let those who prefer going home at once do so in our yacht.”
At that Edward Travilla, standing near, looked greatly pleased. “That is a most kind and generous offer, captain,” he said, “and I for one shall be very glad to accept it.”
“We will consider that you have done so,” returned the captain, “and you can begin engaging your passengers as soon as you like. But I am forgetting that I should first learn how many will accept my invitation for the land trip. Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore, you will do so, will you not? And you, mother, Cousin Ronald and Cousin Annis?”
There was a slight demur, a little asking and answering of questions back and forth, which presently ended in a pleased acceptance of the captain’s generous invitation by all who had come with him in the Dolphin—Violet, his wife, with their children, Elsie and Ned; his older daughters, Lucilla and Grace, with Chester, Lucilla’s husband, and Grace’s lover, Dr. Harold Travilla; Evelyn, Max’s wife, and last but not least in importance, Grandma Elsie, Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore—her father and his wife—and the cousins—Mr. Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife.
All had become greatly interested, and the talk was very cheery and animated. Different routes to California were discussed, and it was presently decided to go by the Southern Pacific, taking the cars at New Orleans—and that they would make an early start, as would those who were to return home in the Dolphin.
“May I take my Tiny along, papa?” asked Elsie, standing by his side with the little monkey on her shoulder.
“I think not, daughter,” he replied; “she would be very apt to get lost while we are wandering about in that strange part of the country.”