Old John, waiting in the hall to be ready to open the door in an instant, did so before the Iron King should leave the carriage, and hoisting a very large umbrella, he went out to the carriage door and held it over his master while they walked back to the house and entered the hall.

“Here! take off my rubber cloak!  Take off my overcoat!  Now my rubber boots!  What a night!” exclaimed the old man, as he came out of his shell, or various shells.

Corona had the pitcher of punch on the table now with a cut-glass goblet beside it.

“I hope you have not taken cold, grandfather,” she said, drawing his easy chair nearer the fire.

“Hold your tongue!  Don’t dare to speak to me!  Leave the room this instant!  John! come in here.  Pour me out a glass of that punch, and while I sip it draw off my boots and put on my slippers,” said the Iron King, throwing himself into his big easy chair and leaning back.

Corona was more pained than surprised.  She had expected something like this from the Iron King.  She replied never a word, but passed into the adjoining dining room and sat down there.  Through the open door she could see the old gentleman reclining at his ease, and sipping his fragrant hot punch while old John drew off his boots, rubbed his feet, and put on his warm slippers.  Presently the waiter brought in the soup, put it on the table, and rang the dinner bell.  Mr. Rockharrt put down his empty glass, and arose and came to the table.  Cora took her place at the head of the board, hardly knowing whether she would be allowed to remain there.  But her grandfather took not the slightest notice of her.  She filled his plate with soup, and put it on the waiter held by the young footman, who carried it to his master.  In this manner passed the whole dinner in every course.  Corona carved or served the dishes, filled the plate for her grandfather, which was taken to him by the footman.  At the end of the heavy meal the Iron King arose from the table and said: 

“I am going to my own room.  Mistress Rothsay, I shall have something to say to you in the morning;” and he went out.

CHAPTER XXIX.

CORONA’S OPPORTUNITY.

Corona Rothsay stood behind her chair at the head of the breakfast table, waiting for Mr. Rockharrt.  He entered presently, and returned no answer to her respectful salutation, but moodily took his seat, raised the cover from the hot dish before him, and helped himself to a broiled partridge.  After the gloomy meal was finished the Iron King arose from the table and pushed back his chair so suddenly and forcibly as to nearly upset his servant.

“Come into the library!  I wish to have a decisive talk with you!” he said, in a harsh voice, to his granddaughter, as he strode from the dining room.

Corona, who had finished her own slight breakfast some minutes before, immediately arose and followed him.  On reaching the bookery, old Aaron Rockharrt sank heavily into his big leathern armchair, and pointed, sternly, to an opposite one, on which Corona obediently seated herself.