“Why, it is a very cool afternoon.  What do you mean?” he demanded.

“It has been a very hot day, and the heat and fatigue—­”

“Rubbish!” he interrupted.  “If I were to give any attention to your faints, you would be fainting every day just to have a fuss made over you.  Now this fainting business has got to be stopped.  Do you hear?  If you are out of order, I will send for my family physician and have you examined.  If you are really ill, you shall be put under medical treatment; if you are not, I will have no fine lady airs and affectations.  The first Mrs. Rockharrt was perfectly free from them.”

“I would not have given way to the weakness if I could have helped it—­indeed I would not!” said the poor woman, very sincerely.

“We’ll see to that!” retorted the Iron King.

Ah, poor Rose!  She was not the old man’s darling and sovereign, as she had hoped and planned to be.  She was the tyrant’s slave and victim.

A man of Aaron Rockharrt’s temperament seldom, at the age of seventy-seven, becomes a lover; and never, at any age, a woman’s slave.

Mr. Fabian now got into the carriage, and sat down on the front cushion opposite his father and step-mother.  Mr. Clarence was following him in, when Mr. Rockharrt roughly interfered.

“What are you about here, Clarence?  What are you going to do?”

“Take my seat in the carriage, of course, sir,” answered the young man, with a surprised look.

“You are going to do nothing of the sort!  I don’t choose to have the horses overtasked in this manner.  I myself, with Fabian and my coachman, to say nothing of Mrs. Rockharrt, are weight enough for one pair of horses, and you can’t come in here.  Where’s Sylvan?”

“On the box seat beside the driver.”

“Really?” demanded the Iron King, in a sarcastic tone, “How many more of you desire to be drawn by one pair of horses?  Tell Sylvan to come down off that.”

“But, sir, there is not a single conveyance of any description at the station,” urged Clarence.

“Indeed!  And pray what do you call your own two pairs of sturdy legs?  Are they not strong enough to convey you from here to North End, where you can get the hotel hack?  And, by the way, why did you not engage the hack to come here and take you back?”

“Because it was out, sir.”

“Then you two should not have come here to over-load the horses.  But as you have come, you must walk back.  Has Sylvan got off his perch?  Ah, yes; I see.  Well, tell the coachman to drive first to the North End Hotel.  And do you two long-legged calves walk after it.  If the hack should be still out when we get there, you can stay at the hotel until it comes in.”

“All right, sir,” said Clarence, good humoredly; and he closed the door, and gave the order to the coachman, who immediately started his horses on the way to North End.

On the way home Mr. Clarence inquired of his nephew when he expected to receive his commission and where he expected to be ordered.