"It is the missus, sah."
The idea that his wife should take the liberty of ordering the house to be closed for the night at this unusual hour of the afternoon, without his authority, enraged him:
"Help me off with my ulster," he said.
When the servant had performed this office the master said:
"Serve dinner at once."
And then he strode into the back parlor, which was the usual sitting room of his wife and granddaughter. The room was empty and darkened. More than ever infuriated by fatigue, hunger, and the supposed disregard of his authority, he came out and walked up stairs to look for his wife in her own room. He pushed open the door and entered. That room was also dark, only for the faint red light that came from the coal fire in the grate. By this he dimly perceived a female form sitting near the bed, and whom he supposed to be his wife.
"Why, in the fiend's name, is the whole house as dark as pitch?" he roughly demanded, as he went to a front window and threw open the shutters, letting in the white light of the snow storm.
"Grandfather!"
It was the voice of Cora that spoke, and there was a something in its tone that struck and almost awed even the Iron King.
He turned abruptly.