Truly, Rose Stillwater felt how unpleasant her companionship was to her former pupil, but she showed no consciousness of this. She comported herself with great discretion--not forcing conversation on her unwilling room mate, lest she should give offense; and it was the policy of this woman to "avoid offenses," nor yet did she keep total silence, lest she should seem to be sulky; for it was also her policy always to seem amiable and happy. So, though Cora never voluntarily addressed one word to her, yet Rose occasionally spoke sweetly some commonplace about the weather, their room, the bill of fare at dinner, and so on; to all of which observations she received brief replies. Both were relieved when they were in their separate beds and the gas was turned off--Rose that she need act a difficult part no more that night, but could lie down, and, under the cover of the darkness, gather her features in a cloud of wrath, and silently curse Corona Rothsay; Cora, that she was freed from the sight of the deceitful face and the sound of the lying tongue. Fatigued by their long journey, both soon fell asleep, and slept well, until the horrible sound of the gong awakened them--the gong in those days used to summon guests to the public breakfast table. Cora sprang out of bed with one fear--that her grandfather was up and waiting for his breakfast, though that gong had really nothing to do with any of their meals, which were always to be served in their private parlor. Cora and her room mate quickly dressed and went to the parlor, where they were relieved to find no Mr. Rockharrt and no table set. Presently, however, the Iron King strode into the room, a morning paper in his hand. "Breakfast not ready yet?" he sharply demanded, looking at Corona. Then she suddenly remembered that whenever they had traveled before this time, her grandmother had ordered the meals, as she had done everything else that she could do to save her tyrant trouble. "I--suppose so, sir. Shall I ring for it?" she inquired. "Let me! Let me! Oh, please let me wait on you!" exclaimed Rose, as she sprang up, ran across the room, and rang a peal on the bell. The waiter came. "Will you also order the breakfast, Mrs. Stillwater, if such is your pleasure?" inquired Cora, who could not help this little bit of ill humor. "Certainly I will, my dear, if you like!" said the imperturbable Rose, who was resolved never to understand sarcasm, and never to take offense--"Waiter, bring me a bill of fare." The waiter went out to do his errand. Old Aaron Rockharrt glared sternly at his granddaughter; but his fire did not strike his intended victim, for Cora had her back turned and was looking out of the window. The waiter came in with the breakfast bill of fare. "Will you listen, Mr. Rockharrt, and you, dear Cora, and tell me what to mark, as I read out the items," said Rose, sweetly, as she took the card from the hands of the man. "Thank you, I want nothing especially," answered Cora.