"Hard at work, I see."

"Not so hard but that you were ahead of me. I felt unpardonably lazy
when I heard you come downstairs at five."

"I'm sorry I woke you. Youngsters need their sleep. We old fellows have
done about all the dozing we need to do; and we are coming so close to
our Long Sleep that God gives us extra wakefulness for the little time
left; so we may see as much as possible of this glorious old world of
His."

"I ran over from the office----"

"Oh, I know why you ran over, Fritzy. A word with Kathrien--yes?"

"No, sir, I try to forget everything but work during business hours. I
came to look for you. I've a suggestion----"

"Yes?"

Grimm's face lighted with the rare smile that played over its harsh
outlines like sunshine. Each proof of his nephew's interest in the work
was as tonic to him.

"I came over," went on Frederik, by hard mental calisthenics creating an
impromptu suggestion, "to propose that we insert a full-page cut of
your new tulip in our midsummer floral almanac."

"H'--m!" muttered Grimm doubtfully. "I don't see why we----"

"Oh, sir, the public's expecting it."

"What makes you think so?"

"Why," now quite at home with his newly evolved notion, "you've no idea
the stir the tulip has made. We get letters from everywhere----"

"It didn't seem to me anything so extraordinary," said Grimm modestly,
albeit hugely gratified. "I'll think over the plan. What have you been
doing all day?"

Frederik glanced at the clock. It registered three minutes before nine.

"Oh, I've had a busy morning," he answered. "In the packing house. Lots
of orders to attend to. It's never safe to trust the more important ones
to subordinates."

"That's right," approved Grimm. "Fritzy, it does me good, all through,
to see you taking hold of the business the way you're doing."

Further praise was cut short by old Marta, the housekeeper, who bustled
in to attend to her regular nine o'clock duty of winding the
chain-weighted Dutch clock.

As she drew up the weights with a grate and a whirr that made audible
conversation quite out of the question, she formed a study, in clothes
and visage, that might have stepped direct from a Franz Hals canvas.

There was nothing American or modern about the old woman. Nothing about
her save her face had changed since the day, sixty years back, when an
earlier Grimm, returning from a visit from the Fatherland, had brought
her to Grimm Manor as maid for his young Americ