They drove up to the hotel in which he had taken rooms. Here they went into their parlor to rest and to wait for an answer to the telegram.
"It is no use going over to the academy now. We could not get sight of Sylvan. The rules and regulations of the military school are as strict and immutable as the laws of the Medes and Persians," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped heavily into a great armchair, leaned back and presently fell asleep.
Cora never liked to see him fall into these sudden deep slumbers. She feared that they were signs of physical decay.
She sat at a front window, which, from the elevated point upon which the hotel stood, looked down upon the brilliant scene below, where crowds of handsomely dressed ladies were walking about the beautiful grounds. She sat watching them some time, and until she saw the tide of strollers turning from all points, and setting in one direction—toward the academy.
Then she glanced at her grandfather. Oh! how old and worn he looked when he lost control of himself in sleep. She touched him lightly. He opened his eyes.
"What is it? Has the telegram come from Mrs. Stillwater?" he inquired.
"No, sir; but the visitors are pouring into the academy, and I am afraid, if we do not go over at once, we shall not be able to find a seat," said Cora.
"Oh, yes, we shall. Strange we do not get an answer from Mrs. Stillwater," said the old man anxiously, as he slowly arose and began to draw on his gloves and looked for his hat.
Cora went and found it and gave it to him.
Then she put on her bonnet.