"Yes, sir; only waiting for you," answered the lady, touching a bell.
The gray haired butler came to the call.
"Put dinner on the table," ordered Mr. Rockharrt.
The old butler bowed and disappeared; and after awhile reappeared and announced:
"Dinner served, sir."
Mr. Rockharrt gave his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to take her to the table.
"Will not my Uncle Clarence be home this evening?" inquired Cora, as the three took their seats.
"No; he will not be home before Saturday night. Since Fabian went away there has been twice as much supervision over the foremen and bookkeepers needed there, and Clarence is very busy over the accounts, working night and day," replied the Iron King, as he took a plate of soup from the hands of the butler and passed it to Mrs. Stillwater, who received it with the beaming smile that she always bestowed on the Iron King.
She was the life of the little party. If she was a broken hearted widow, she did not show it there. She smiled, gleamed, glowed, sparkled in countenance and words. The moody Iron King was cheered and exhilarated, and said, as he filled her glass for the first time with Tokay, "Though you do not need wine to stimulate you, my child. You are full of joyous life and spirits."
"Oh, sir, pardon me. Perhaps I ought to control myself; but I am so happy to be here through your great goodness; so free from care and fear; so full of peace and joy; so safe, so sheltered! I feel like a storm beaten bird who has found a nest, or a lost child who has found a home, and I forget all my losses and all my sorrows and give myself up to delight. Pardon me, sir; I know I ought to be calmer."