e here. Will write more in a few days; must stop now to secure
the mail that goes by this train--wagon and mule train to Arkansaw City,
my dear."

This was the substance of the young lieutenant's letter to his sister.

"But 'all the same,' I shall go," said Corona. And she sat down to
answer her brother's letter.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A DOMESTIC STORM.

It is a truth almost too trite for reference, that in the experience of
every one of us there are some days in in which everything seems to go
wrong. Such a day was this 13th of November to the Iron King.

When he reached North End that morning, the first thing that met him in
his private office was the news that certain stocks had fallen. The news
came by telegraph, and put him in a terrible temper.

This was about ten o'clock. Two hours later it was discovered that one
of the minor bookkeepers, a new employe who had come well recommended
about a month before, had just absconded with all he could lay his hands
on--only a few thousand dollars--the merest trifle of a loss to
Rockharrt & Sons, but extremely exasperating under the circumstances. So
taking one provocation with another, at noon on that 13th of November
old Aaron Rockharrt was about the maddest man on the face of the earth.

It was his custom to lunch with his sons in the private parlor of Mr.
Clarence's suit of rooms at the North End Hotel, every day at two
o'clock.

To-day, however, he showed no disposition to eat or drink. And although
the two younger men were famishing for food they dared not go to lunch
without him, or even urge him to make an effort to go with them. It was
then three o'clock, an hour later than their usual hour, that Mr.
Rockharrt made a movement in the desired way by rising, stretching his
limbs, and saying:

"We will go over to the hotel and get something to eat."

The three men crossed the street and went directly to Mr. Clarence's
room, where the table for luncheon was set out. But there was nothing on
it but cut bread, casters, and condiments, for these men always
preferred hot luncheon in cold weather, and it was yet to be dished up.

The Iron King was not in a humor to wait. He hurried the servants. And
at length when the dishes, which had been punctually prepared for two
o'clock, were placed on the table at twenty minutes past three,
everything was overdone, dried up, and indigestible.

It was the Iron King's own fault for not coming to the table when the
meal