"What do you say, my child?" inquired Mr. Rockharrt of his guest.
"Sweet Cora never could disturb me under any circumstances, but it cannot be good for her to room with such a nervous creature as I am just at present," replied Rose.
"Umph! It appears to me that you two women wish to have separate rooms each only for the welfare of the other. Well, you shall have them. Take Mrs. Stillwater up stairs, Cora, while I step into the office," said Mr. Rockharrt.
Cora drew the convalescent's arm within her own, and helped her to climb the easy flight of stairs, and took her into the parlor, where they were presently joined by the Iron King.
"I have also engaged a private sitting room, so that we need not go down to the public table, and dinner will be laid for us there in a few minutes. You need not lay off your wraps until you go there; and if there is any special dish that you would particularly like, my dear, I hope you will order it at once. Come." And he offered his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to whom, indeed, he had addressed all his remarks.
He led her from the public parlor, followed by his granddaughter. The little sitting room which Mr. Rockharrt had been able to engage was just across the hall.
On entering they found the table laid for a party of three.
Neither Mr. Rockharrt nor Cora had broken fast since their early breakfast at West Point. The old gentleman was very hungry.
Dinner was soon served, and two of the party did full justice to the good things set before them; but Rose Stillwater could touch nothing. She had not recovered her appetite since her overdose of morphia. In vain her host recommended this or that dish, for the more appetizing the flavor, the more she detested them.
At last when dinner was over, Mr. Rockharrt recommended her to retire to rest. She readily took his advice and bade him good night.