"Martha, show Mrs. Stillwater to the chamber prepared for her, and wait her orders there." The negro woman wiped her clean hand on her clean apron--as a mere useless form--and then held it out to the visitor, saying, with the scorn of conventionality and the freedom of an old family servant: "How do Miss Rose! 'Deed I's mighty proud to see you ag'in--'deed I is! How much you has growed! I mean, how han'some you has growed! You allers was han'some, but now you's han'somer'n ever! 'Deed, honey, you's mons'ous han'some!" This hearty welcome and warm admiration, though only from the negro servant, helped to relieve the embarrassment of the visitor, who felt the chill of Cora's cold reception. "Thank you, Aunt Martha," she said, and followed the woman up stairs. "Why did you not attend Mrs. Stillwater to her room?" sternly demanded the Iron King, fixing his eyes severely on his granddaughter, as soon as the visitor was out of hearing. "It is not usual to do anything of the sort, sir, except in the case of the guest being a very distinguished person or a very dear friend. My ex-governess is neither. She shall, however, be treated with all due respect by me so long as she remains under your roof," quietly replied Cora. "You had best see to it that she is," retorted the Iron King, as he stalked up stairs to his own room, followed by his valet. Cora returned to the drawing room, and seated herself in her arm chair, and put her feet upon her foot-stool, and leaned back, to appearance quite composed, but in reality very much perturbed. Had she acted well in her manner to her grandfather's guest? She did not know. She could not, therefore, feel at ease. She certainly did not treat Mrs. Stillwater with rudeness or hauteur; she was quite incapable of doing so; yet, on the other hand, neither had she treated her ex-governess with kindness or courtesy. She had been calm and cold in her reception of the visitor; that was all. But was she right? After all, she knew no positive evil of the woman. She had only strong circumstantial evidence of her unworthiness. She recalled an old saying of her father's: "Better trust a hundred rogues than distrust one honest man." Yet all Cora's instincts warned her not to trust Rose Stillwater. After all, she could do nothing--at least at present. She would wait the developments of time, and then, perhaps, be able to see her duty more clearly. Meanwhile, for family peace and good feeling, she would be civil to Rose Stillwater. Half an hour passed, and her meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the guest. Mrs. Stillwater seemed determined not to understand coldness or to take offense. She came in, drew her chair to the fire, and spread out her pretty hands over its glow, cooing her delight to be with dear friends again.