The ferryboat was at the wharf, and the broad shouldered negro dwarf was standing on it, pole in hand.

His look of surprise and delight on seeing Sylvan and Cora was good to behold.

“Why, Lors bress my po’ ole soul, young marse an’ miss, is yer come sure ’nough?  ’Deed I’s moughty proud to see yer.  How’s de ole marse?  When he coming back agin?” he queried, as the carriage rolled slowly across the gangplank from the wharf to the deck of the ferryboat.

“Your ole marse is quite well, Uncle Moses, and will be home on the first of the month with his new wife,” said Sylvan, who could not miss the fun of telling this rare bit of news to the aged ferryman.

The old negro dropped his pole into the water, opened his mouth and eyes to their widest extent and gasped and stared.

“Wid—­w’ich?” he said, at last.

“With his new wife and your new mistress,” answered Sylvan.

The old negro dropped his chin on his chest, raised his knobby black fingers to his head and scratched his gray hair with a look of quaint perplexity, as he muttered,

“Now I wunner ef I tuk too heavy a pull on to dat dar rum jug, fo’ I lef de house dis mornin’—­I wunner if I did.”

His mate stopped and pulled the pole up out of the water and began himself to push off the boat until it was afloat.

They soon reached the opposite shore, drove off the boat and up the avenue between the flowering locust trees that formed a long, green, fragrant arch above their heads, and so on to the gray old house.  In a very few moments the door was opened and all the household servants appeared to welcome the returning party.  Most of them looked more frightened than pleased; but when anxious glances toward the group leaving the carriage assured them that the family “Boodlejock” was not present, they seemed relieved and delighted to see the others.

With the easy, respectful familiarity of long and faithful service, the negro men and women crowded around the entering party with loving greetings.

The news of the Iron King’s marriage was told by Sylvan.  Had a bombshell fallen and exploded among the servants, they could not have been more shocked.  There was a simultaneous exclamation of surprise and dismay, and then total silence.

At the end of the third day all was ready for the reception of Mr. and Mrs. Rockharrt.

The next day was the first of July.  As soon as Mr. Clarence reached his private office at the works he found a telegram waiting him.  He opened it, and read the following: 

    CAPON SPRINGS, July 1, 18—­

    Shall reach North End by the 6 p.m. train.  Send the carriage to
    meet that train.  Shall go directly to Rockhold.  Order dinner there
    for 8 p.m.

    AARON ROCKHARRT.

Mr. Clarence put a boy on horseback and sent him on to Cora, with this message inclosed in a note from himself.  And then he gave his attention to the duties of his office.  He was still busy at his desk when Mr. Fabian strolled in.