“Duke of Cumbervale, you must not venture to interfere with me in the discipline of my own family.  I don’t very much like dukes.  I think I said that once before.  I rejected you for my granddaughter two years ago when she was bound to Rule Rothsay.  Now that she is a widow and is free, I accepted your suit and bestowed her on you, not that I like dukes any better now than I did then, but I like you better as a man.”

The young duke bowed with solemn gravity at this compliment, repressing the smile that fluttered about his lips.  At this moment a waiter entered the room, and said that “the gentleman’s” servant had arrived with his master’s luggage, and requested to know where it was to be put.

“Tell him to get his dinner, and then take the luggage in the same carriage to the station,” said the duke, and the messenger withdrew.

“Have you lunched, duke?” inquired Mr. Rockharrt, mindful, even in his rage, of his duties as a host.

“I have not thought of doing so,” replied the young man.

“Umph!  I suppose not!” grunted the Iron King, as he rang the bell.

A waiter appeared.

“Any game in the house?”

“Yes, sir; fine venison.”

“Don’t want venison—­had it for breakfast.  Anything else?”

“A very fine wild turkey, sir.”

“Bother!  Takes three hours to dress, and I want a hot lunch got up in twenty-five minutes, at longest.  Any small game?”

“Uncommon fine partridges, sir.”

“Then have a dozen dressed and sent up, with proper accompaniments; and lose no time about it!  Also put a bottle of Johannisberg on ice.”

“Yes, sir.”

The waiter vanished.

“I must bid you good-by now, Mr. Rockharrt,” said the duke, rising.

“No; you must not.  Sit down.  Sit down.  You must lunch with me, and drink a parting glass of wine.  Then you will have plenty of time to secure your train, and I to drive to Rockhold at my usual hour.  Say no more, duke.  Keep your seat.”

Cumbervale looked at the iron-gray man before him, thought certainly this must be their last meeting and parting on earth, and that therefore he would not cross the patriarch in his humor.

“You are very kind.  Thank you.  I will break a parting bottle of wine with you willingly.”

In double-quick time the broiled partridges were served, the wine placed, and all was ready for the two men.

“Go and tell Mr. Fabian and Mr. Clarence that I wish them to come here.  You will find them somewhere in the house,” said Mr. Rockharrt.

“Beg pardon, sir; both gentlemen have gone over to the works,” replied the waiter.

This was true.  Both “boys” had gorged themselves with cold ham, bread and cheese, washed down with quarts of brown stout, and were in no appetite to enjoy partridge and Johannisberg, even if they had been found in the hotel.

“Glad they have found out that they must be attentive to business.  You and I, duke, will discuss the good things on the table before us.  Come.”