, calling off._] Otto! Run to the office and tell Mr.
Frederik he may come in now. [_The voice of a gruff Dutchman: "Het is
pastoor's dag."_ (It is the pastor's day.)] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It's
William's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_
PETER _calls "Come in,"_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, stands
timidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand._] How are you
to-day, William? [_Pats_ WILLIAM _on the shoulder._

WILLIAM. The Doctor says I'm well now.

PETER. Good! Then you shall take flowers to the church. [_Calls off._] A
big armful, Otto!

MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which she
tucks into_ WILLIAM'S _breast pocket._

PETER. [_In a low voice, to_ JAMES.] There's your example of freedom!
William's mother, old Marta's spoiled child, was free. You remember
Annamarie, James?--let to come and go as she pleased. God knows where she
is now ... and here is William with the poor old grandmother.... Run along
with the flowers, William. [_Gives_ WILLIAM _some pennies as he goes._]
How he shoots up, eh, Marta?

MARTA. [_With the hopeless sorrow of the old, as she passes off._]
Poor child ... poor child.

PETER. Give Katie more freedom, eh? Oh, no! I shall guard her as I would
guard my own, for she is as dear to me as though she were mine, and, by
marriage, please God, she shall be a Grimm in _name_.

JAMES. Mr. Grimm, I--I wish you would transfer me to your branch house in
Florida.

PETER. What? You who were so glad to come back! James, you need a holiday.
Close your desk. Go out and busy yourself with those pet vegetables of
yours. Change your ideas; then come back sane and sensible, and attend to
your work. [_Giving a last shot at_ JAMES _as he passes into the office
and_ FREDERIK _re-enters._] You don't know what you want!

FREDERIK. [_Looking after_ JAMES.] Uncle Peter, when I came in this
morning, I made up my mind to speak to you of James.

PETER. James?

FREDERIK. Yes, I've wondered lately if ... it seems to me that James is
interested in Catherine.

PETER. James? Impossible.

FREDERIK. I'm not so sure.

PETER. [_Good-naturedly._] James? James Hartman?

FREDERIK. When I look back and remember him as a barefoot boy living in a
shack behind our hot-houses--and see him now--in here with you--

PETER. All the more credit, Frederik.

FREDERIK. Yes; but these are the sort of fellows who dream of getting into
the firm. And there ar