he talented orator's neck."

He gathered up some of his papers and stamped out. Frederik looked after
him uncertainly, took a step toward the door through which the secretary
had just vanished, then thought better of the idea, laughed shortly, and
drew out a cigarette. But a creaking of heavy shoes on the walk outside
led him to slip the cigarette back into its case, and to bend
interestedly over the pile of office mail Hartmann had opened.

If Kathrien had typified all that was dainty and alluring in the room's
Dutch art, the man who now stamped in from the front vestibule,
assuredly was typical of all old Holland's solidity. Stocky, of medium
height, he was clad more as though he had copied the fashions depicted
in a daguerrotype than those of the twentieth century. His black
broadcloth was of no recent cut. His low, upright collar and broad
cravat were of stock-like aspect, while a high hat such as he wore has
certainly appeared in no show window since 1870.

Withal, there was nothing ludicrous or even incongruous about the
costume. It belonged with the wearer. And while on another man it would
have been absurd, on him it seemed the only logical apparel.

Peter Grimm halted in the vestibule, laboriously removed his rubbers,
and dropped his heavy ash stick into its place on the rack. Then he
carefully lifted the antique hat from his head, deposited it on a peg,
and came forward into the room. The face, revealed as he left the
vestibule's gloom for the bright sunlight, was at first glance hard,
deeply lined, and stubborn; the effect accented by a set mouth, the
little truculently alert eyes under bushy brows, and the slightly
uptilted nose.

A second look, however, would have revealed, to any one who could read
faces, a lovable and almost tender light behind the eye's sharp twinkle
and a kindly, humorous twist to the stubborn mouth. Hot temper, the
physiognomist would have read, and obstinacy. But there the catalogue of
faults would have ended abruptly. The rest was warm heart, trustfulness,
eager sympathy,--an almost child-like friendliness toward the world at
large that forever battled for mastery with native Dutch shrewdness.

There was far more kindness than shrewdness in the square old face just
now, as Grimm noted his nephew's presence and his deep absorption in the
contents of the mail. Frederik looked up as Grimm came forward.

"Good-morning, Oom Peter," said he.

"Good-morning, Fritzy," returned Grimm.