hed word
crossed out of them."

Hartmann made no reply. He did not seem to have heard. But Frederik,
absently ripping to atoms a Richmond rose from the window table vase,
continued his muttered tirade. An inattentive audience was better than
none.

"Work!" he growled. "When people here aren't talking about it, they're
doing it. Grubby, earthy work. And it was to prepare for this sort of
thing that I loafed through Leyden and Heidelberg! Yes, and loafed
through, creditably, too; even if Oom Peter did bully me into making a
specialty of botany. Botany! Dry as dust. After the University and after
my _wanderjahr_, I thought it would be another easy task to come here,
and 'learn the business.' Easy! As easy as the treadmill. And as
congenial."

"I wonder you don't tell Mr. Grimm all that. I'm sure it would interest
him."

"My dear, worthy uncle, who builds such wonderful hopes on me? Not I. It
would break his noble heart. I hope you quite understand, Hartmann, that
I keep quiet only through fear of wounding him and not with any fear
that he might bequeath the business elsewhere."

"Quite," returned Hartmann drily. "That's why I keep my mouth shut when
he holds you up to me as a paragon of zeal and industry and asks me why
I don't pattern myself after you. But, for all that, you're taking
chances when you talk to me about him as you do."

"I'm not," contradicted Frederik. "I may not know botany. But I know
men. You love me about as much as you love smallpox. But you belong to
the breed that doesn't tell tales. Besides, I've got to speak the truth
to some one, once in a while, if I don't want to explode. You're a
splendid safety valve, Hartmann."

The secretary bent over his notes. His forehead veins swelled, and his
face darkened. But he gave no overt sign of offence. Frederik, watching
keenly, seemed disappointed.

"In New York," he pursued with a sigh, "they're just about thinking of
waking up. And look at the time _I'm_ routed out of bed! Say, Hartmann,
I wish you would give Oom Peter a hint to oil his shoes. Every morning
he wakes me up at five o'clock, creaking down the stairs. It's a sort of
pedal alarm clock. Creak! Creak! Creak!--_Ach, Gott!_ Even yet I can
hardly keep one eye open. If ever it pleases Providence to give me my
heritage, the first thing I'll do will be to sleep till noon. And then
to go to sleep again."

He stared moodily out of the window into the glowing, flower-starred
June world.

"Ho