dark
old furniture with tints of rich warmth; glowing upon the roses that
were arranged on desk and piano.

The Dutch clock on the wall struck twelve. A moment later, the little
clock on the mantel jinglingly endorsed the sentiment. Then, save for
the drowsy droning of the bees among the blossoms outside the open
windows, there was no sound in all Grimm's world.

Even Kathrien and Frederik seemed silenced by the spell of summer noon
magic. The girl was looking out across the sun-kissed gardens. Frederik
was eyeing her in complacent satisfaction, his nimble brain busy with
the tidings that might mean so much for him.

Kathrien turned from the window at last and seated herself idly at the
piano. Her slender fingers drifted half-aimlessly over the keys.
Frederik lounged over to the piano and stood looking down at her.

Presently she began to sing. Frederik joined in the song and their young
voices blended sweetly in the old Dutch and English words:

"_Van een twee, een twee, nu
Ste-ken wij van wal:_
The bird so free in the heavens
Is but the slave of the nest.
For all must toil as God wills it,
Must laugh and toil and rest.

"The rose must blow in the gardens,
The bee must gather its store.
The cat must watch the mousehole,
And the dog must guard the door!"

As the voices died away, Peter Grimm came out of his tortuous reverie.
He had reached a decision. And, having once made up his mind, he was not
a man to delay the execution of any plan.

"Katje!" he called, with sharp eagerness.

Startled at his unwonted tone, the girl hurried across to him.

"Yes, Oom Peter?" she asked.

"Get me--the Staaten Bible, please. Quickly."

Wondering at the peremptory tone of the familiar request, Kathrien
obeyed, bringing the heavy old book to the table at his side; and
opening it, from long habit, at the closely written pages of the Grimm
family genealogy.

"There!" said Peter, running his finger down the last record page until
it stopped at the blank space just below his own name.

"Frederik!" he called. "Come here."

The young people stood, one at each side of his chair, awaiting the next
move, more than a little astonished at the unwonted haste and eagerness
in his tone.

"Katje," went on Grimm, almost feverishly, as he pointed again at the
blank line beneath his birth announcement, "I want to see you married
and happy."

"I _am_ happy, Uncle," she protested, "and----"

"And I want to see