an wife. Her task
accomplished, Marta turned dutifully to courtesy to her master.

"_Huge moroche, Mynheer Grimm_," she saluted him. "_Komt ujuist eut di
teum?_"

"_Ja_," replied Peter, dropping into the tongue of his fathers, yet with
an odd twinkle in his little eyes. "_En ik bin hongerig._--Taking her
morning exercise," he added, noting the performance with the clock
weights.

"You are always making fun of me!" sniffed Marta, trying not to grin as
she swept indignantly out of the room.

In her departure she nearly collided with Hartmann who was entering
from the offices. Seating himself at the desk, dictation pad in hand,
Hartmann asked:

"Are you ready for me, sir?"

"Yes," answered Grimm.--"No, I'm not. But I will be in a minute. There's
something I'd forgotten. Wait----"

Cupping his hands about his mouth, Grimm wheeled to face the gallery and
shouted a curiously high-pitched dissyllable:

"_Ou--hoo!_"

And, as though a sweeter, more silvery echo of the rough old voice, came
from one of the gallery rooms an answering hail. Kathrien herself
followed close upon her reply to the familiar signal call.

"Oh, Oom Peter!" she exclaimed, running lightly down the stairs and
throwing her arms about his neck. "Good-morning. How careless I was not
to come sooner and make your coffee. I didn't know you were in yet. You
must be half starved."

She started for the dining-room. But Grimm's arm was about her waist,
detaining her.

"This is the very busiest little woman you ever saw, Frederik," he
announced. "She is forever thinking of things to do for me. And I'm
never remembering to do anything for her."

"Shame!" cried Kathrien, "you do everything in this big world for me,
Oom Peter, and you know it. I've got everything any girl's heart could
ask."

"Oh, no, you haven't though," sagely contradicted Grimm. "Before you say
that, wait till I give you some fine young chap for a husband. Hey,
Frederik?"

She drew away from his embrace with gentle impatience.

"Don't, Oom Peter," she begged. "You're always talking about weddings
lately. I don't know what's come over you."

"It's nesting time," Grimm defended himself. "Weddings are in the air.
And then, I keep thinking of all the linen packed in my grandmother's
chest upstairs. We must use it again some day. There, there, little
girl! You shan't be teased any more. Only, I'll leave it to you, Fritzy,
if she doesn't deserve a grand husband,--this little girl of m