THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM

[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO]

DAVID BELASCO

(Born, San Francisco, July 25, 1853)

The present Editor has had many opportunities of studying the theatre sideof David Belasco. He has been privileged to hear expressed, by this Edisonof our stage, diverse opinions about plays and players of the past, andabout insurgent experiments of the immediate hour. He has always found aman quickly responsive to the best memories of the past, an artist naivelychildlike in his love of the theatre, shaped by old conventions andmodified by new inventions. Belasco is the one individual manager to-daywho has a workshop of his own; he is pre-eminently a creator, whereas hiscontemporaries, like Charles Frohman, were emphatically manufacturers ofgoods in the amusement line. 

Such a man is entitled to deep respect, for the "carry-on" spirit withwhich he holds aloft the banner used by Boucicault, Wallack, Palmer, andDaly. It is wrong to credit him with deafness to innovation, withblindness to new combinations. He is neither of these. It is difficult tofind a manager more willing to take infinite pains for effect, with noheed to the cost; it is impossible to place above him a director moresuccessful in creating atmosphere and in procuring unity of cooperationfrom his staff. No one, unless it be Winthrop Ames, gives more personalcare to a production than David Belasco. Considering that he was reared inthe commercial theatre, his position is unique and distinctive. 

In the years to come, when students enter the Columbia University DramaticMuseum, founded by Professor Brander Matthews, they will be able to judge, from the model of the stage set for "Peter Grimm, " exactly how far DavidBelasco's much-talked-of realism went; they will rightly regard it as thehigh point in accomplishment before the advent of the "new" scenery, whosephilosophy Belasco understands, but whose artistic spirit he cannotaccept. Maybe, by that time, there will be preserved for close examinationthe manuscripts of Belasco's plays--models of thoroughness, of managerialforesight. The present Editor had occasion once to go through thesetypewritten copies; and there remains impressed on the memory the detailedexposition in "The Darling of the Gods. " Here was not only indicated everyshade of lighting, but the minute stage business for acting, revealing howwholly the manager gave himself over to the creation of atmosphere. Iexamined a mass of data--"boot plots, " "light plots, " "costume designs. "Were the play ever published in this form, while it might confuse thegeneral reader, it would enlighten the specialist. It would be a key torealistic stage management, in which Belasco excels. Whether it be his ownplay, or that of some outsider, with whom, in the final product, Belascoalways collaborates, the manuscripts, constituting his producing library, are evidence of his instinctive eye for stage effect. 

The details in the career of David Belasco are easily accessible. It ismost unfortunate that the stupendous record of his life's accomplishmentthus far, which, in two voluminous books, constituted the final labour ofthe late William Winter, is not more truly reflective of the man and hiswork. It fails to reproduce the flavour of the dramatic periods throughwhich Belasco passed, in his association with Dion Boucicault as privatesecretary, in his work with James A. Herne at Baldwin's Theatre, in SanFrancisco, in his pioneer realism at the old New York Madison SquareTheatre, when the Mallory Brothers were managers, Steele Mackaye was oneof the stock dramatists, Henry DeMille was getting ready for collaborationwith Belasco, Daniel Frohman was house-manager and Charles Frohman was outon the road, trying his abilities as advance-man for Wallack and MadisonSquare successes. Winter's life is orderly and matter-of-fact; Belasco'sreal life has always been melodramatic and colourful. 

His early struggles in San Francisco, his initial attempts at playwriting, his intercourse with all the big actors of the golden period of the'60's--Mr. Belasco has written about them in a series of magazinereminiscences, which, if they are lacking in exact sequence, are measureof his type of mind, of his vivid memory, of his personal opinions. 

Belasco has reached his position through independence which, in the '90's, brought down upon him the relentless antagonism of the Theatrical Trust--acombine of managers that feared the advent of so individualistic aplaywright and manager. They feared his ability to do so many things well, and they disliked the way the public supported him. This struggle, tempestuous and prolonged, is in the records. 

A man who has any supreme, absorbing interest at all is one who thrives onvagaries. Whatever Belasco has touched since his days of apprenticeship inSan Francisco, he has succeeded in imposing upon it what is popularlycalled "the Belasco atmosphere. " Though he had done a staggering amount ofwork before coming to New York, and though, when he went to the LyceumTheatre, he and Henry DeMille won reputation by collaborating in "TheWife, " "Lord Chumley, " "The Charity Ball, " and "Men and Women, " he wasprobably first individualized in the minds of present-day theatregoerswhen Mrs. Leslie Carter made a sensational swing across stage, holding onto the clapper of a bell in "The Heart of Maryland. " Even thus early, hewas displaying characteristics for which, in later days, he remainedunexcelled. He was helping Bronson Howard to touch up "Baron Rudolph, ""The Banker's Daughter" and "The Young Mrs. Winthrop;" he was succeedingwith a dramatization of H. Rider Haggard's "She, " where William Gillettehad failed in the attempt. 

"The Heart of Maryland" established both Belasco and Mrs. Carter. Then hestarted on that extravagant period of spectacular drama, which gave to thestage such memorable pictures as "Du Barry, " with Mrs. Carter, and "TheDarling of the Gods, " with Blanche Bates. In such pieces he literallythrew away the possibilities of profit, in order to gratify his decorativesense. Out of that time came two distinctive pieces--one, the exquisitelypoignant "Madame Butterfly" and the other, "The Girl of the Golden West"--both giving inspiration to the composer, Puccini, who discovered that aBelasco play was better suited for the purposes of colourful Italian operathan any other American dramas he examined. 

Counting his western vicissitudes as one period, and the early New Yorkdays as a second, one might say that in the third period David Belascoexhibited those excellences and limitations which were thereafter to markhim and shape all his work. There is an Oriental love of colour and effectin all he does; but there is no monotony about it. "The Darling of theGods" was different from "The Girl of the Golden West, " and both weredistinct from "The Rose of the Rancho. " It is this scenic decorativenesswhich has enriched many a slim piece, accepted by him for presentation, and such a play has always been given that care and attention which hasturned it eventually into a Belasco "offering. " None of his collaboratorswill gainsay this genius of his. John Luther Long's novel was unerringlydramatized; Richard Walton Tully, when he left the Belasco fold, imitatedthe Belasco manner, in "The Bird of Paradise" and "Omar, the Tentmaker. "And that same ability Belasco possesses to dissect the heart of a romanticpiece was carried by him into war drama, and into parlour comedies, andplays of business condition. I doubt whether "The Auctioneer" would readwell, or, for the matter of that, "The Music Master;" Charles Klein haswritten more coherent dialogue than is to be found in these early pieces. But they are vivid in mind because of Belasco's management, and because hesaw them fitted to the unique figure of David Warfield. 

But a Belasco success is furthered by the tremendous public curiosity thatfollows him in all he does. There is a wizardry about him whichfascinates, and makes excellent reading in the press. Long before I sawthe three-winged screen upon which it is his custom to sort out and pin uphis random notes for a play, it was featured in the press. So werepictures of his "collection, " in rooms adjoining his studio--especiallyhis Napoleonic treasures which are a by-product of his Du Barry days. Noman of the theatre is more constantly on the job than he. It is said thatold John Dee, the famous astrologer whom Queen Elizabeth so oftenconsulted, produced plays when he was a student at Cambridge University, with stage effects which only one gifted in the secrets of magic couldhave consummated. Belasco paints with an electric switchboard, until theemotion of his play is unmistakably impressed upon the eye. At a moment'snotice he will root out his proscenium arch, and build a "frame" whichobliterates the footlights; at another time he will build an "apron" tohis stage, not for its historical significance, but merely to give depthand mellowness to such an ecclesiastical picture as Knoblauch's"Marie-Odile. " He has spent whole nights alone in the theatre auditoriumwith his electrician, "feeling" for the "siesta" somnolence which carriedhis audience instantly into the Spanish heat of old California, in "TheRose of the Rancho;" and the moving scenery which took the onlooker fromthe foot-hills of the Sierras to the cabin of "The Girl of the GoldenWest" was a "trick" well worth the experiment. 

Thus, no manager is more ingenious, more resourceful than David Belasco. But his care for detail is often a danger; he does not know fully thevalue of elimination; the eye of the observer is often worried by themultiplicity of detail, where reticence would have been more quicklyeffective. This is the Oriental in Belasco. His is a strange blend ofrealism and decorativeness. 

"A young man came to me once, " he said to me, "with the manuscript of anew play, which had possibilities in it. But after I had talked with himawhile, I found him preaching the doctrines of the 'new' art. So I said tohim, 'My dear sir, here is your manuscript. The first scene calls for atenement-house set. How would you mount it?'"

He smiled, maybe at the recollection of Gordon Craig's statements that"actuality, accuracy of detail, are useless on the stage, " and that "allis a matter of proportion and nothing to do with actuality. "

"I felt, " Mr. Belasco continued, "that the young man would find difficultyin reconciling the nebulous perspectives of Mr. Craig with the squalor ofa city block. I said to him, 'I have been producing for many years, and Ihave mounted various plays calling for differing atmospheres. I don't wantto destroy your ideals regarding the 'new art', but I want you to realizethat a manager has to conform his taste to the material he has in hand. Iconsider that one of the most truthful sets I have ever had on the stagewas the one for the second act of Eugene Walter's 'The Easiest Way'. Aboarding-house room on the top floor cannot be treated in any other waythan as a boarding-house room. And should I take liberties with what weknow for a fact exists in New York, on Seventh Avenue, just off Broadway, then I am a bad producer and do not know my business. I do not say thereis no suggestion in realism; it is unwise to clutter the stage withneedless detail. But we cannot idealize a little sordid ice-box where aworking girl keeps her miserable supper; we cannot symbolize a broken jugstanding in a wash-basin of loud design. Those are the necessary evils ofa boarding-house, and I must be true to them'. "

One will have to give Mr. Belasco this credit, that whatever he is, he is_it_ to the bent of his powers. Had he lived in Elizabeth's day, he wouldhave been an Elizabethan heart and soul. But his habit is formed as aproducer, and he conforms the "new" art to this habit as completely asReinhardt Reinhardtized the morality play, "Everyman, " or Von HofmannsthalTeutonized "Elektra. "

"The Return of Peter Grimm" has been chosen for the present collection. Itrepresents a Belasco interest and conviction greater than are to be foundin any of his other plays. While there are no specific claims made for thefact that_ PETER _materializes after his death, it is written withplausibility and great care. The psychic phenomena are treated as thoughreal, and our sympathy for_ PETER _when he returns is a human sympathy forthe inability of a spirit to get his message across. The theme is notetherealized; one does not see through a mist dimly. There was not even anattempt, in the stage production of the piece, which occurred at theBelasco Theatre, New York, on October 17, 1911, to use the "trick" ofgauze and queer lights; there was only one supreme thing done--to make theaudience feel that_ PETER _was on a plane far removed from the physical, by the ease and naturalness with which he slipped past objects, lookedthrough people, and was unheeded by those whom he most wanted toinfluence. The remarkable unity of idea sustained by Mr. Belasco asmanager, and by Mr. Warfield as actor, was largely instrumental in makingthe play a triumph. The playwright did not attempt to create supernaturalmood; he did not resort to natural tricks such as Maeterlinck used in"L'Intruse, " or as Mansfield employed in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. " Hereduced what to us seems, at the present moment, a complicated explanationof a psychic condition to its simple terms, and there was nothing strangeto the eye or unusual in the situation. One cannot approach the theme ofthe psychic without a personal concern. Sardou's "Spiritisme" was theculmination of years of investigation; the subject was one with whichBelasco likewise has had much to do during the past years. 

It is a privilege to be able to publish "Peter Grimm. " Thus far not manyof the Belasco plays are available in reading form. "May Blossom" and"Madame Butterfly" are the only ones. "Peter Grimm" has been novelized--inthe day, now fortunately past, when a play was novelized in preference toperpetuating its legitimate form. And excerpts from the dialogue have beenused. But this is the first time the complete text has appeared and it hasbeen carefully edited by the author himself. In addition to which Mr. Belasco has written the following account of "Peter's" evolution, to beused in this edition. 

The play, "The Return of Peter Grimm, " is an expression in dramaticform of my ideas on a subject which I have pondered over sinceboyhood: "Can the dead come back?" _Peter Grimm_ did come back. Atthe same time, I inserted a note in my program to say that Iadvanced no positive opinion; that the treatment of the play allowedthe audience to believe that it had actually seen _Peter_, or thathe had not been seen but existed merely in the minds of thecharacters on the stage. Spiritualists from all over the countryflocked to see "The Return of Peter Grimm, " and I have heard that itgave comfort to many. It was a difficult theme, and more than once Iwas tempted to give it up. But since it has given relief to thosewho have loved and lost, it was not written in vain. VictorianSardou dealt with the same subject, but he did not show the returnof the dead; instead, he delivered a spirit message by means ofknocking on a table. His play was not a success, and I was warned bymy friends to let the subject alone; but it is a subject that Inever can or never have let alone; yet I never went to a medium inmy life--could not bring myself to do it. My dead must come to me, and have come to me--or so I believe. 

The return of the dead is the eternal riddle of the living. Althoughmediums have been exposed since the beginning of time, and so-called"spiritualism" has fallen into disrepute over and over again, itemerges triumphantly in spite of charlatans, and once more becomesthe theme of the hour. 

The subject first interested me when, as a boy, I read a story inwhich the dead "foretold dangers to loved ones. " My mother had"premonitions" which were very remarkable, and I was convinced, atthe time, that the dead gave these messages to her. She personallycould not account for them. I probably owe my life to one of mymother's premonitions. I was going on a steamboat excursion with myschool friends, when my mother had a strong presentiment of danger, and begged me not to go. She gave in to my entreaties, however, muchagainst her will. Just as the boat was about to leave the pier, avision of her pale face and tear-filled eyes came to me. I heard hervoice repeating, "I wish you would not go, Davy. " The influence wasso strong that I dashed down the gang-plank as it was being pulledin. The boat met with disaster, and many of the children were killedor wounded. These premonitions have also come to me, but I do notbelieve as I did when a boy that they are warnings from the dead, although I cannot explain them, and they are never wrong; themessage is always very clear. 

My mother convinced me that the dead come back by coming to me atthe time of her death--or so I believe. One night, after a long, hard rehearsal, I went to bed, worn out, and fell into a deep sleep. I was awakened by my mother, who stood in my bedroom and called tome. She seemed to be clothed in white. She repeated my name over andover--the name she called me in my boyhood: "Davy! Davy!" She toldme not to grieve--that she was dying; that she _had_ to see me. Idistinctly saw her and heard her speak. 

She was in San Francisco at the time--I, in New York. After shepassed out of the room, I roused my family and told what I had heardand seen. I said: "My mother is dead. I know she is dead;" but Icould not convince my family that I had not been dreaming. I wasvery restless--could not sleep again. The next day (we wererehearsing "Zaza") I went out for luncheon during the recess with amember of my company. He was a very absent-minded man, and at thetable he took a telegram from his pocket which he said he hadforgotten to give me: it announced the death of my mother at thetime I had seen her in my room. I am aware that this could beexplained as thought transference, accompanied by a dream in whichmy mother appeared so life-like as to make me believe the dreamreal. This explanation, however, does not satisfy me. I am sure thatI did see her. Other experiences of a kindred nature served tostrengthen my belief in the naturalness of what we call thesupernatural. I decided to write a play dealing with the return ofthe dead: so it followed that when I was in need of a new play forDavid Warfield, I chose this subject. Slight of figure, unworldly, simple in all his ways, Warfield was the very man to bring a messageback from the other world. Warfield has always appeared to me as acharacter out of one of Grimm's Fairy Tales. He was, to my mind, theone man to impersonate a spirit and make it seem real. So my desireto write a play of the dead, and my belief in Warfield's artistryculminated in "The Return of Peter Grimm. " The subject was verydifficult, and the greatest problem confronting me was to preservethe illusion of a spirit while actually using a living person. Theapparition of the ghost in "Hamlet" and in "Macbeth, " the spiritswho return to haunt _Richard III_, and other ghosts of the theatreconvinced me that green lights and dark stages with spot-lightswould not give the illusion necessary to this play. All otherspirits have been visible to someone on the stage, but_ PETER _wasvisible to none, save the dog (who wagged his tail as his masterreturned from the next world) and to _Frederik_, the nephew, who wasto see him but for a second. _ PETER _was to be in the same room withthe members of the household, and to come into close contact withthem. They were to feel his influence without seeing him. He was tomove among them, even appear to touch them, but they were to lookpast him or above him--never into his face. He must, of course, bevisible to the audience. My problem, then, was to reveal a dead manworrying about his earthly home, trying to enlist the aid ofanybody--everybody--to take his message. Certainly no writer everchose a more difficult task; I must say that I was often very muchdiscouraged, but something held me to the work in spite of myself. The choice of an occupation for my leading character was verylimited. I gave_ PETER _various trades and professions, none ofwhich seemed to suit the part, until I made him a quaint oldDutchman, a nursery-man who loved his garden and perennials--theflowers that pass away and return season after season. This gave aclue to his character; gave him the right to found his belief inimmortality on the lessons learned in his garden. 

 "God does not send us strange flowers every year, When the warm winds blow o'er the pleasant places, The same fair flowers lift up the same fair faces. The violet is here . .. It all comes back, the odour, grace and hue, . .. It IS the THING WE KNEW. So after the death winter it shall be, " etc. 

Against a background of budding trees, I placed the action of theplay in the month of April; April with its swift transitions frombright sunlight to the darkness of passing clouds and showers. Aprilweather furnished a natural reason for raising and lowering thelights--that the dead could come and go at will, seen or unseen. Thepassing rain-storms blended with the tears of those weeping fortheir loved ones. A man who comes back must not have a commonplacename--a name suggestive of comedy--and I think I must have read overevery Dutch name that ever came out of Holland before I selected thename of "_Peter Grimm_. " It was chosen because it suggested (to me)a stubborn old man with a sense of justice--whose spirit _would_return to right a wrong and adjust his household affairs. 

The stage setting was evolved after extreme care and thought. It wasa mingling of the past and present. It was _Peter's_ sitting-room, with a mixture of furniture and family portraits and knick-knacks, each with an association of its own. It was such a room as would bedear to all old-fashioned, home-loving people--unlike a room of thepresent, from which every memento of parents and grand-parents wouldbe banished in favour of strictly modern or antique formalfurniture. In this room, the things of _Peter's_ father mingled withthose of _Peter's_ boyhood and young manhood. This was done in orderthat the influence of his familiar belongings might be felt by thepeople of the play. When his niece stood with her hand on his chair;when she saw the lilies he loved; when she touched his pipe, or anyof the familiar objects dear to her because of their associations, _PETER _was brought vividly back to her mind, although she could notsee him. 

_Peter's_ clothing was selected with unusual care so that it wouldnot catch the reflection from the lights. Months of preparation andweeks of rehearsal were necessary. 

One detail that was especially absorbing was the matter of lighting;catching the high lights and shadows. This was the first time the"bridge of lights" was used on any stage. Lighting has always beento me more than mere illumination. It is a revelation of the heartand soul of the story. It points the way. Lights should be to theplay what the musical accompaniment is to the singer. A wordlessstory could be told by lights. Lights should be mixed as a paintermixes his colours--a bit of pink here, of blue there; a touch ofred, a lavender or a deep purple, with shadows intervening to givethe desired effect. Instead of throwing a mysterious light upon thefigure of _Peter_, I decided to reverse the process and put nolights on him. The light was on the other people--the people stillin life, with just enough amber to give them colour. 

The play was cut and cut until there was not a superfluous line init. Every word was necessary, although it might not have seemed sowhen read. It was only after the play was recalled as a whole, thatthe necessity for everything could be seen. The coming of the circuswith the clown singing "Uncle Rat has come to town, " and the noiseof the drums, are instances of this. It seemed like halting theaction to bring in a country circus procession, but its necessity isshown in the final scene when the little boy, _William_, passesaway. It is always cruel to see a child die on the stage. Thepurpose of the coming of the circus was to provide a pleasant memoryfor the child to recall as his mind wandered away from earth, and tohave his death a happy one. This was made more effective when Petertook up the refrain of the song as though he knew what was passingin the dying boy's mind, showing that the dead have their own worldand their own understanding. 

No company of players ever had situations so fraught with danger offailure. They were very nervous. Mr. Warfield appeared in the partfor several weeks before he felt at ease as the living man whoreturns as his own spirit. 

There is one memory associated with the play which will remain in myheart as long as it beats. This piece was written during the lastyear-and-a-half of my daughter Augusta's life. For some reason, which I could not understand then, but which was clear to me later, the subject fascinated her. She showed the greatest interest in it. The dear child was preparing to leave the world, but we did not knowit. When the manuscript was finished, she kept it by her side, and, notwithstanding her illness, saw the dress rehearsal. During thewriting of the play, she often said, "Yes, father, it is all true. Ibelieve every word of it. " It was as though the thought embodied inthe play gave her comfort. When we discovered how ill she was, Itook her to Asheville, North Carolina, thinking the climate wouldhelp her. She grew worse. Still hoping, we went to Colorado, andthere I lost her. 

It has seemed to me since that the inspiration compelling me to goon with "Peter Grimm, " in spite of its difficulties, came from thisdaughter who died. 

I cannot close this reminiscence of "The Return of Peter Grimm"without acknowledging the help and inspiration received from DavidWarfield, without whose genius and personality the play would nothave been possible. 

I doubt whether Mr. Belasco has ever infused so much imaginative ingenuityinto the structure and picture of a play. Even in the reading, its quaintcharm is instantly revealed. We quite agree with Winter in saying that theeffectiveness of the role of_ PETER _lies in its simplicity. This was thetriumph of Warfield's interpretation. It may have been difficult to attainthe desired effects, but once reached, technical skill did the rest. Itwill be noted on the program that credit is given for an idea to Mr. CecilDeMille, son of Mr. Belasco's former collaborator. "The Return of PeterGrimm" was scheduled for production in London by Sir Herbert Tree, butplans were cut short by that actor's sudden death, July 2, 1917. 

Mr. Belasco's interest in the psychic and the supernatural has been seenin other plays, notably in "The Case of Becky, " by Edward Locke, and inHenry Bernstein's "The Secret"--example of Belasco's most skilledadaptation from the French, though we remember the excellence of hisversion of Berton and Simon's "Zaza. " That he thought Warfield admirablysuited to this type of play was one of the chief incentives whichprompted him to write "Van Der Decken" (produced on the road, December 12, 1915), a play whose theme is "The Flying Dutchman"--and not thus far givenin New York. [A]

[Footnote A: Some of Mr. Belasco's recent opinions regarding the stagehave been published in book form, under the title, "The Theatre throughits Stage Door" (Harper). ]

[Illustration: BELASCO THEATRE

FORTY FOURTH STREET near BROADWAYUnder the Sole Management of DAVID BELASCO

BEGINNING TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 17, 1911. Matinees Thursday and Saturday. 

DAVID BELASCOPresentsDAVID WARFIELD-IN-THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM

A PLAY, IN THREE ACTS. 

By DAVID BELASCO. 

"Only one thing really counts--only one thing--love. It is the only thingthat tells in the long run; nothing else endures to the end. "

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

PETER GRIMM. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . DAVID WARFIELDFREDERIK, his nephew. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. JOHN SAINPOLISJAMES HARTMAN. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . THOMAS MEIGHANANDREW MacPHERSON. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . JOSEPH BRENNANREV. HENRY BATHOLOMMEY. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. WILLIAM BOAGCOLONEL TOM LAWTON. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. JOHN F. WEBBERWILLEM. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. PERCY HELTONKATHRIEN. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. JANET DUNBARMRS. BATHOLOMMEY. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . MARIE BATESMARTA. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. MARIE REICHARDTTHE CLOWN. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . TONY BEVAN

PROGRAM CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE FOLLOWING

 * * * * *

PROGRAM CONTINUED. 

SYNOPSIS. 

The scene of the play is laid in the living room of Peter Grimm's home atGrimm Manor, a small town in New York State, founded by early settlersfrom Holland. 

The first act takes place at eleven o'clock in the morning, on a finespring day. 

The second act passes ten days later, towards the close of a rainyafternoon. 

The third act takes place at twenty minutes to twelve on the same night. 

PROGRAM CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE FOLLOWING

 * * * * *

PROGRAM CONTINUED. 

NOTE--Mr. Belasco does not intend to advance any theory as to theprobability of the return of the main character of this play. For themany, it may be said that he could exist only in the minds of thecharacters grouped about him--in their subconscious memories. For _thefew_, his presence will embody the theory of the survival of persistentpersonal energy. This character has, so far as possible, been treated toaccord with either thought. The initial idea of the play was firstsuggested as a dramatic possibility by Mr. Cecil DeMille, to whom Mr. Belasco acknowledges his indebtedness. A conversation with ProfessorJames, of Harvard, and the works of Professor Hyslop of the Americanbranch of the London Society of Psychical Research have also aided Mr. Belasco. 

The play produced under the personal supervision of Mr. Belasco. 

Stage Director. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . William J. Dean

Stage Manager. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . William Boag

Scene by Ernest Gros. 

Scenery built by Charles J. Canon

Electrical effects by Louis Hartman. ]

THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM

_A PLAY IN THREE ACTS_

_By_ DAVID BELASCO

1915

[The Editor wishes to thank Mr. David Belasco for his courtesy in grantingpermission to include "The Return of Peter Grimm" in the presentCollection. All its rights are fully secured, and proceedings willimmediately be taken against any one attempting to infringe them. ]

ACT I. 

_The scene shows a comfortable living-room in an old house. The furniturewas brought to America by _PETER GRIMM'S_ ancestors. The _GRIMMS_ were, for the most part, frugal people, but two or three fine paintings havebeen inherited by _PETER_. 

_A small, old-fashioned piano stands near the open window, a fewcomfortable chairs, a desk with a hanging lamp above it, and an arm-chairin front of it, a quaint old fireplace, a Dutch wall clock with weights, asofa, a hat-rack, and mahogany flower-pot holders, are set about the room;but the most treasured possession is a large family Bible lying on atable. A door leads to a small office occupied by _PETER'S_ secretary. _

_Stairs lead to the sleeping-rooms above. Through the window, hothouses, beds of tulips, and other flowers, shrubs and trees are seen. "PeterGrimm's Botanic Gardens" supply seeds, plants, shrubbery and trees to thewholesale, as well as retail trade, and the view suggests the importanceof the industry. An old Dutch windmill, erected by a Colonial ancestor, gives a quaint touch, to the picture. Although _PETER GRIMM_ is a verywealthy man, he lives as simply as his ancestors. _

_As the curtain is raised, the room is empty; but _CATHERINE_ isheard singing in the dining-room. _JAMES HARTMAN, PETER'S_ secretary, opens his door to listen, a small bundle of letters in hishand. He is a well set up young man, rather blunt in his manner, and a trifle careless in his dress. After a pause, he goes back intothe office, leaving the door ajar. Presently _CATHERINE_ enters. Inspite of her youth and girlish appearance, she is a good, thriftyhousekeeper. She wears a simple summer gown, and carries abunch of gay tulips and an old silver pitcher, from which she presentlypours water into the Harlequin Delft vase on _PETER GRIMM'S_ desk. Shepeeps into the office, retreating, with a smile on her lips, as _JAMES_ appears. _

CATHERINE. Did I disturb you, James?

JAMES. [_On the threshold. _] No indeed. 

CATHERINE. Do you like your new work?

JAMES. Anything to get back to the gardens, Catherine. I've always doneoutside work and I prefer it; but I would shovel dirt rather than work forany one else. 

CATHERINE. [_Amused. _] James!

JAMES. It's true. When the train reached the Junction, and a boy presentedthe passengers with the usual flower and the "compliments of PeterGrimm"--it took me back to the time when that was my job; and when I sawthe old sign, "Grimm's Botanic Gardens and Nurseries"--I wanted to jumpoff the train and run through the grounds. It seemed as though every tulipcalled "hello" to me. 

CATHERINE. Too bad you left college! You had only one more year. 

JAMES. Poor father! He's very much disappointed. Father has worked in thedirt in overalls--a gardener--all his life; and, of course, heover-estimates an education. He's far more intelligent than most of ourcollege professors. 

CATHERINE. I understand why you came back. You simply must live wherethings grow, mustn't you, James? So must I. Have you seen our orchids?

JAMES. Orchids are pretty; but they're doing wonderful things withpotatoes these days. I'd rather improve the breed of a squash than to havean orchid named after me. Wonderful discovery of Luther Burbank's--creating an edible cactus. Sometimes I feel bitter thinking what I mighthave done with vegetables, when I was wasting time studying Greek. 

CATHERINE. [_Changing suddenly. _] James: why don't you try to please UnclePeter Grimm?

JAMES. I do; but he is always asking my opinion, and when I give it, heblows up. 

CATHERINE. [_Coaxingly. _] Don't be quite so blunt. Try to be like one ofthe family. 

JAMES. I'm afraid I shall never be like one of _this_ family. 

CATHERINE. Why not? I'm no relation at all; and yet--

JAMES. [_Making a resolution. _] I'll do my best to agree with him. [_Offering his hand. _] It's a promise. [_They shake hands. _

CATHERINE. Thank you, James. 

JAMES. [_Still holding her hand. _] It's good to be back, Catherine. It'sgood to see you again. 

_He is still holding her hand when _FREDERIK GRIMM_ enters. He is the sonof _PETER'S_ dead sister, and has been educated by_ PETER _to carry on hiswork. He is a graduate of Amsterdam College, Holland, and, in appearanceand manner, suggests the foreign student. He has managed to pull throughcollege creditably, making a specialty of botany. _ PETER _has given himthe usual trip through Europe, and_ FREDERIK _has come to his rich uncleto settle down and learn his business. He has been an inmate of thehousehold for a few months. He poses as a most industrious young man, butis, at heart, a shirker. _

FREDERIK. Where's Uncle?

JAMES. Good-morning, Frederik. Your uncle's watching father spray the plumtrees. The black knot's after them again. 

FREDERIK. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Uncle wakes me up every morningat five--creaking down the old stairs. [_Eyeing_ CATHERINE _admiringly. _]You're looking uncommonly pretty this morning, Kitty. [CATHERINE _edgesaway and runs upstairs to her room. _

FREDERIK. Hartman!

JAMES. Yes?

FREDERIK. Miss Catherine and you and I are no longer children--ourpositions are altered--please remember that. I'm no longer a student homefor the holidays from Amsterdam College. I'm here to learn the businesswhich I am expected to carry on. Miss Catherine is a young lady now, andmy uncle looks upon her as his daughter. You are here as my uncle'ssecretary. That's how we three stand in this house. Don't call me"Frederik, " and hereafter be good enough to say, "Miss Grimm. "

JAMES. [_Amiably. _] Very well. 

FREDERIK. James: there's a good opportunity for a young man like you inour Florida house. I think that if I spoke for you--

JAMES. Why do you wish to ship me off to Florida?

FREDERIK. I don't understand you, Hartman. I don't wish to ship you off. Iam merely thinking of your future. You seem to have changed since--

JAMES. We've all grown up, as you just said. [JAMES _has laid some mail onthe desk, and is about to leave the room, when_ FREDERIK _speaks again, but in a more friendly manner. _

FREDERIK. The old man's aging; do you notice it?

JAMES. Your uncle's mellowing, yes; but that's only to be expected. He'schanging foliage with the years. 

FREDERIK. He's growing as old-fashioned as his hats. In my opinion, thiswould be the time to sell. 

JAMES. [_Astonished. _] Sell? Sell a business that has been in his familyfor--why, it's his religion!

FREDERIK. It's at the height of its prosperity. It would sell like that![_Snapping his fingers. _] What was the last offer the old man refused fromHicks, of Rochester, Jim?

JAMES. [_Noticing the sudden friendliness--looking at_ FREDERIK, _half-amused, half-disgusted. _] Can't repeat correspondence, Mr. Grimm. [_Amazed. _] Good heavens! You surprise me! Would you sell your great, great grandfather? I learned to read by studying his obituary out in thepeach orchard: "Johann Grimm, of Holland, an upright settler. " There isn'ta day your uncle doesn't tell me that you are to carry on the work. 

FREDERIK. So I am, but it's not _my_ religion. [_Sarcastically. _. ]Every man can't be blessed like you with the soul of a market gardener--apeddler of turnips. 

JAMES. [_Thinking--ignoring_ FREDERIK. ] He's a great old man--your uncle. It's a big name--Grimm--Peter Grimm. The old man knows his business--hecertainly knows his business. [_Changing. _] God! It's an awful thoughtthat a man must die and carry all that knowledge of orchids to the grave!I wonder if it doesn't all count somewhere. .. . I must attend to the mail. 

PETER GRIMM _enters from the gardens. He is a well-preserved man of sixty, very simple and plain in his ways. He has not changed his style of dressin the past thirty years. His clothing, collar, tie, hat and shoes are allold-fashioned. He is an estimable man, scrupulously honest, gentle andsympathetic; but occasionally he shows a flash of Dutch stubbornness. _

FREDERIK. I ran over from the office, Uncle Peter, to make a suggestion. 

PETER. Yes?

FREDERIK. I suggest that we insert a full-page cut of your new tulip inour mid-summer floral almanac. 

PETER. [_Who has hung up his hat on his own particular peg, affablyassenting. _] A good idea!

FREDERIK. The public is expecting it. 

PETER. You think so, my boy?

FREDERIK. Why, Uncle, you've no idea of the stir this tulip has created. People stop me in the street to speak of it. 

PETER. Well, well, you surprise me. I didn't think it so extraordinary. 

FREDERIK. I've had a busy morning, sir, in the packing house. 

PETER. That's good. I'm glad to see you taking hold of things, Fritz. [_Humourously, touching_ FREDERIK _affectionately on the shoulder. _] Wemustn't waste time; for that's the stuff life's made of. [_Seriously. _]It's a great comfort to me, Frederik, to know that when I'm in my littleprivate room with James, or when I've slipped out to the hothouses, --youare representing me in the offices--_young_ Mr. Grimm. .. . James, are youready for me?

JAMES. Yes, sir. 

PETER. I'll attend to the mail in a moment. [_Missing_ CATHERINE, _hecalls according to the household signal. _] Ou--oo! [_He is answered by_CATHERINE, _who immediately appears from her room, and comes runningdownstairs. _] Catherine, I have news for you. I've named the new roseafter you: "Katie--a hardy bloomer. " It's as red as the ribbon in yourhair. 

CATHERINE. Thank you, Uncle Peter, thank you very much. And now you musthave your cup of coffee. 

PETER. What a fine little housewife! A busy girl about the house, eh, Fritz? Is there anything you need to-day, Katie?

CATHERINE. No, Uncle Peter, I have everything I need, thank you. 

PETER. Not everything, --not everything, my dear. [_Smiling at_ FREDERIK. JAMES, _ignored, is standing in the background. _] Wait! Wait till I giveyou a husband. I have my plans. [_Looking from_ FREDERIK _to_ CATHERINE. ]People don't always know what I'm doing, but I'm a great man for planning. Come, Katie, tell me, on this fine spring morning, what sort of husbandwould you prefer?

CATHERINE. [_Annoyed, --with girlish impatience. _] You're always speakingof weddings, Uncle Peter. I don't know what's come over you of late. 

PETER. It's nesting time, . .. Spring weddings are in the air; besides, mygrandmother's linen-chest upstairs must be used again for you[_Impulsively drawing_ CATHERINE _to him. _], my house fairy. [_Kissesher. _] There, I mustn't tease her. But I leave it to Fritz if I don't oweher a fine husband--this girl of mine. Look what she has done for _me!_

CATHERINE. Done for you? I do you the great favour to let _you_ doeverything for _me_. 

PETER. Ah, but who lays out my linen? Who puts flowers on my desk everyday? Who gets up at dawn to eat breakfast with me? Who sees that I have mysecond cup of coffee? But better than all that--who brings youth into myold house?

CATHERINE. That's not much--youth. 

PETER. No? We'll leave it to Fritz. [FREDERIK, _amused, listens insilence. _] What should I be now--a rough old fellow--a bachelor--withoutyouth in my house, eh? God knows! Katie has softened me towards all theladies--er--mellowed me as time has mellowed my old pictures. [_Points topictures. _] And I was growing hard--hard and fussy. 

CATHERINE. [_Laughing. _] Ah, Uncle Peter, have I made you take a liking toall the rest of the ladies?

PETER. Yes. It's just as it is when you have a pet: you like all thatbreed. You can only see _your_ kind of kitten. 

JAMES. [_Coming down a step, impressed by_ PETER'S _remark--speakingearnestly. _] That's so, sir. [_The others are surprised. _] I hadn'tthought of it in that way, but it's true. You study a girl for the firsttime, and presently you notice the same little traits in every one ofthem. It makes you feel differently towards all the rest. 

PETER. [_Amused. _] Why, James, what do you know about girls? "Bachelor" isstamped all over you--you're positively labelled. 

JAMES. [_Good-naturedly. _] Perhaps. [_Goes back to the office. _

PETER. Poor James! What a life before him! When a bachelor wants to ordera three-rib roast, who's to eat it? I never had a proper roast until Katieand Frederik came to make up my family; [_Rubbing his hands. _] but theroasts are not big enough. [_Giving_ FREDERIK _a knowing look. _] We mustfind a husband. 

CATHERINE. You promised not to--

PETER. I want to see a long, long table with plenty of young people. 

CATHERINE. I'll leave the room, Uncle. 

PETER. With myself at the head, carving, carving, carving, watching theplates come back, and back, and back. [_As she is about to go. _] There, there, not another word of this to-day. 

_The 'phone rings. _ JAMES _re-enters and answers it. _

JAMES. Hello! [_Turns. _] Rochester asks for Mr. Peter Grimm to the 'phone. Another message from Hicks' greenhouses. 

PETER. Ask them to excuse me. 

JAMES. [_Bluntly. _] You'll have to excuse him. [_Listens. _] No, no, thegardens are not in the market. You're only wasting your time. 

PETER. Tc! Tc! James! Can't you say it politely? [JAMES _listens at'phone. _

FREDERIK. [_Aside to_ PETER. ] James is so painfully blunt. [_Thenchanging. _] Is it--er--a good offer? Is Hicks willing to make it worthwhile? [_Catching his uncle's astonished eye--apologetically. _] Of course, I know you wouldn't think of--

CATHERINE. I should say not! My home? An offer? _Our_ gardens? I shouldsay not!

FREDERIK. Mere curiosity on my part, that's all. 

PETER. Of course, I understand. Sell out? No indeed. We are thinking ofthe next generation. 

FREDERIK. Certainly, sir. 

PETER. We're the last of the family. The business--that's Peter Grimm. Itwill soon be Frederik Grimm. The love for the old gardens is in our blood. 

FREDERIK. It is, sir. [_Lays a fond hand on_ PETER'S _shoulder. _

PETER. [_Struck. _] I have an idea. We'll print the family history in ournew floral almanac. 

FREDERIK. [_Suppressing a yawn. _] Yes, yes, a very good idea. 

PETER. Katie, read it to us and let us hear how it sounds. 

CATHERINE. [_Reads. _] "In the spring of 1709 there settled on QuassickCreek, New York State, Johann Grimm, aged twenty-two, husbandman andvine-dresser, also Johanna, his wife. "

PETER. Very interesting. 

FREDERIK. Very interesting, indeed. 

CATHERINE. "To him Queen Anne furnished one square, one rule, one compass, two whipping saws and several small pieces. To him was born--"

PETER. [_Interrupting. _] You left out two augurs. 

CATHERINE. [_Reads. _] Oh, yes--"and two augurs. To him was born a son--"

PETER. [_Who knows the history by heart, has listened, his eyes almostsuffused--repeating each word to himself, as she reads. He has lived overeach generation down to the present and nods in approval as she reachesthis point. _] The foundation of our house. And here we are prosperous andflourishing--after seven generations. We'll print it, eh, Fritz?

FREDERIK. Certainly, sir. By all means let us print it. 

PETER. And now we are depending upon you, Frederik, for the next line inthe book. [_To_ CATHERINE _--slyly--as she closes the book. _] If my sistercould see Frederik, what a proud mother she would be!

JAMES. [_Turning from the 'phone to_ PETER. ] Old man Hicks himself hascome to the 'phone. Says he _must_ speak to Mr. Peter Grimm. 

FREDERIK. I'd make short work of him, Uncle. 

PETER. [_At the 'phone. _] How are you, my old friend?. .. How are your plumtrees? [_Listens. _] Bad, eh? Well, we can only pray and use BordeauxMixture. .. . No. .. . Nonsense! This business has been in my family for sevengenerations. Why sell? I'll see that it stays in the family sevengenerations longer! [_Echoing. _] Do I propose to live that long? N--no;but my plans will. [_Looks towards_ FREDERIK _and_ CATHERINE. ] How? Nevermind. Good-morning. [_Hangs up the receiver. _

JAMES. Sorry to disturb you, sir, but some of these letters are--

FREDERIK. I'm off. 

PETER. [_Who has lifted a pot of tulips to set it in the sun--standingwith the pot in his hands. _] And remember the saying: [_A twinkle in hisupraised eyes. _] "Thou, O God, sellest all good things at the price oflabour. " [_Smells the tulips and sets them down. _

FREDERIK. [_Goes briskly towards the door. _] That's true, sir. I want tospeak to you later, Uncle--[_Turning, looking at_ JAMES. ] on a privatematter. [_He goes off looking at his watch, as though he had a hard day'swork before him. _

PETER. [_Looking after_ FREDERIK. ] Very capable young fellow, Frederik. Iwas a happy man, James, when I heard that he had won the prize for botanyat Amsterdam College. I had to find out the little I know by experience. 

JAMES. [_Impulsively. _] Yes, and I'll wager you've forgotten more than--[_Catching a warning glance from_ CATHERINE, _he pauses. _

PETER. What?

JAMES. Nothing, sir. I--

CATHERINE. [_Tugging at_ PETER'S _coat--speaking to him apart, as_ JAMES_busies himself at the desk. _] Uncle Peter, I think you're unfair toJames. We used to have him to dinner very often before he went away. Nowthat he's back, you treat him like a stranger. 

PETER. [_Surprised. _] Eh? I didn't know that I--[_Petting_ CATHERINE. ]A good, unselfish girl. She thinks of everybody. [_Aloud. _] James, willyou have dinner with us to-day?

JAMES. [_Pleased and surprised. _] Thank you, sir--yes, sir. 

PETER. It's a roast goose--cooked sweet, James. [_Smacks his lips. _] Freshgreen herbs in the dressing and a Figaro pudding. Marta brought over thatpudding receipt from Holland. 

MARTA, _an old family servant, has entered with the air of havingforgotten to wind the clock. She smiles happily at_ PETER'S _allusion toher puddings, attends to the old clock, and passes of with_ CATHERINE. PETER _sits at the desk, glancing over the mail. _

PETER. Katie's blossoming like a rose. Have you noticed how she's comingout lately, James?

JAMES. Yes, sir. 

PETER. You've noticed it, too? [_Picks up another letter, looking overit. _

JAMES. Yes, sir. 

PETER. [_Pausing, taking off his eye-glasses and holding them on histhumb. Philosophically. _] How prettily Nature accomplishes her will--making a girl doubly beautiful that a young man may yield his freedom themore easily. Wonderful! [_During the following, he glances over letters. _]A young girl is like a violet sheltered under a bush, James; and that isas it should be, isn't it?

JAMES. No, sir, I don't think so. 

PETER. [_Surprised. _] What?

JAMES. I believe people should think for themselves--not be. .. . 

PETER. Go on. 

JAMES. --er--

PETER. Well?

JAMES. [_Remembering his promise to_ CATHERINE. ] Nothing. 

PETER. Go on, James. 

JAMES. I mean swallowed up. 

PETER. Swallowed up? Explain yourself, James. 

JAMES. I shouldn't have mentioned it. 

PETER. Certainly, certainly. Don't be afraid to express an honest opinion. 

JAMES. I only meant that you can't shape another's life. We are all freebeings and--

PETER. Free? Of course Katie's free--to a certain extent. Do you mean totell me that any young girl should be freer? Nonsense! She should be happythat _I_ am here to think for her--_I_! _We_ must think for people whocan't think for themselves; and a young girl can't. [_Signing an answer toa letter after hastily glancing over it. _] You have extraordinary ideas, James. 

JAMES. Excuse me, sir; you asked my opinion. I only meant that we can'tthink for others--any more than we can eat or sleep for them. 

PETER. [_As though accepting the explanation. _] Oh . .. I see what youmean. 

JAMES. Of course, every happy being is bound by its nature to lead its ownlife--that it may be a free being. Evidently I didn't make my meaningclear. [_Giving_ PETER _another letter to sign. _

PETER. Free? Happy? James, you talk like an anarchist! You surprise me, sir. Where do you get these extraordinary ideas?

JAMES. By reading modern books and magazines, sir, and of course--

PETER. I thought so. [_Pointing to his books. _] Read Heine. Cultivatesentiment. [_Signing the letter. _] Happy? Has it ever occurred to you thatKatie is not happy?

JAMES. No, sir, I can't truthfully say that it has. 

PETER. I imagine not. These are the happiest hours of her life. Young . .. In love . .. Soon to be married. 

JAMES. [_After a long pause. _] Is it settled, sir?

PETER. No, but I'll soon settle it. Anyone can see how she feels towardsFrederik. 

JAMES. [_After a shorter pause. _] Isn't she very young to marry, sir?

PETER. Not when she marries into the family; not when _I_ am in thehouse--[_Touching his chest. _] to guard her--to watch over her. Leave itto _me_. [_Enthusiastically. _] Sit here, James. Take one of Frederik'scigars. [JAMES _politely thanks him, but doesn't take one. _] It's apleasure to talk to some one who's interested; and you _are_ interested, James?

JAMES. Yes, sir, I'm much more interested than you might think. 

PETER. Good. We'll take up the mail in a minute. Now, in order to carryout my plans--

CATHERINE. [_Sticking her head in the door. _] Ready for coffee?

PETER. Er--a little later. Close the door, dear. [_She disappears, closingthe door. _] In order to carry out my plans, I have had to use greatdiplomacy. I made up my mind to keep Katie in the family; being a richman--everybody knows it--I've had to guard against fortune-hunters. However, I think I've done away with them, for the whole town understandsthat Katie hasn't a penny--doesn't it, James?

JAMES. Yes, sir. 

PETER. Yes, I think I've made that very clear. My dream was to bringCatherine up to keep her in the family, and it has been fulfilled. Myplans have turned out beautifully, for she is satisfied and happy. 

JAMES. But did you want her to be happy simply because _you_ are happy, sir? Don't you want her to be happy because _she_ is happy?

PETER. If she's happy, why should I care? [_Picks up the last letter. _

JAMES. _If_ she's happy. 

PETER. [_Losing his temper. _] What do you mean? That's the second timeyou've said that. Why do you harp on--

JAMES. [_Rising. _] Excuse me, sir. 

PETER. [_Angrily. _] Sit down. What do you know?

JAMES. Nothing, sir. .. . 

PETER. You must know something to speak in this manner. 

JAMES. No, I don't. You're a great expert in your line, Mr. Grimm, and Ihave the greatest respect for your opinion; but you can't mate people asyou'd graft tulips. And more than once, I've--I've caught her crying andI've thought perhaps . .. 

PETER. [_Pooh-poohing. _] Crying? Of course! Was there ever a girl whodidn't cry?. .. You amuse me . .. With your ideas of life. .. . Ha! Haven't Iasked her why she was crying, --and hasn't she always said: "I don't knowwhy--it's nothing. " They love to cry. [_Signs the last letter. _] Butthat's what they all cry over--nothing. James, do you know how I happenedto meet Katie? She was prescribed for me by Doctor MacPherson. 

JAMES. [_Taking the letter. _] Prescribed?

PETER. As an antidote. I was growing to be a fussy bachelor, with queernotions. You are young, but see that you don't need the Doctor, James. Doyou know how I was cured? I'll tell you. One day, when I had business inthe city, the Doctor went with me, and before I knew what he was at--hehad marched me into a home for babies. .. . Katie was nearest the door--thefirst one. Pinned over her crib was her name: "Catherine Staats, agedthree months. " She held out her little arms . .. So friendless--sopitiful--so alone--and I was done for. We brought her back home, theDoctor, a nurse and I. The first time I carried her up those stairs--allmy fine bachelor's ideas went out of my head. I knew then that my theorieswere all humbug. I had missed the child in the house who was to teach meeverything. I had missed many children in my house. From that day, Iwatched over her life. [_Rising, pointing towards the head of thestairs. _] James, I was born in this house--in the little room where Isleep; and her children shall one day play in the room in which I wasborn. .. . That's very pretty, eh? [_Wipes his eyes, sentimentally. _] I'vealways seen it that way. 

JAMES. [_Coolly. _] Yes; it's _very_ pretty if it turns out well. 

PETER. How can it turn out otherwise?

JAMES. To me, sir, it's not a question of sentiment--of where her childrenshall play, so long as they play happily. 

PETER. What? Her children can play anywhere--in China if they want to! Areyou in your senses? A fine reward for giving a child all your affection--to live to see her children playing in China. No, sir! I propose to keepmy household together, by your leave. [_Banging his clenched fist on thedesk. _] It's my plan. [_Cleans his pipe, looking at_ JAMES _from time totime. _ JAMES _posts the letters in a mail-box outside the door. _ PETER_goes to the window, calling off. _] Otto! Run to the office and tell Mr. Frederik he may come in now. [_The voice of a gruff Dutchman: "Het ispastoor's dag. "_ (It is the pastor's day. )] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It'sWilliam's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_PETER _calls "Come in, "_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, standstimidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand. _] How are youto-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. _] Abig armful, Otto!

MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which shetucks 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 rememberAnnamarie, James?--let to come and go as she pleased. God knows where sheis now . .. And here is William with the poor old grandmother. .. . Run alongwith 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 wouldguard my own, for she is as dear to me as though she were mine, and, bymarriage, please God, she shall be a Grimm in _name_. 

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

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 ofyours. Change your ideas; then come back sane and sensible, and attend toyour work. [_Giving a last shot at_ JAMES _as he passes into the officeand_ FREDERIK _re-enters. _] You don't know what you want!

FREDERIK. [_Looking after_ JAMES. ] Uncle Peter, when I came in thismorning, 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 isinterested 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 ashack 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 intothe firm. And there are more ways than one. 

PETER. Do you mean to say--He wouldn't presume to think of such a thing. 

FREDERIK. Oh, wouldn't he! The class to which he belongs presumes to thinkof anything. I believe he has been making love to Catherine. 

PETER. [_After a slight pause, goes to the dining-room door and calls. _]Katie! Katie!

FREDERIK. [_Hastily. _] Don't say that I mentioned it. [CATHERINE_enters. _

PETER. Katie, I wish to ask you a question. I--[_He laughs. _]Oh, it's absurd. No, no, never mind. 

CATHERINE. What is it?

PETER. I can't ask you. It's really too absurd. 

CATHERINE. [_Her curiosity aroused. _] What is it, Uncle?. .. Tell me . .. Tell me. .. . 

PETER. Has James ever--

CATHERINE. [_Taken back and rather frightened--quickly. _] No. .. . 

PETER. What?. .. How did you know what I . .. [FREDERIK _gives her a shrewdglance; but_ PETER, _suspecting nothing, continues. _] I meant . .. HasJames shown any special interest in you?

CATHERINE. [_As though accepting the explanation. _] Oh . .. [_Flurried. _]Why, Uncle Peter!. .. Uncle Peter!. .. Whatever put this notion into yourhead?

PETER. It's all nonsense, of course, but--

CATHERINE. I've always known James. .. . We went to school together. .. . James has shown no interest he ought not to have shown, Uncle Peter, --ifthat's what you mean. He has always been very respectful in a perfectlyfriendly way. 

PETER. [_Convinced. _] Respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_To_FREDERIK. ] You can't ask more than that. Thank you, dear, that's all Iwanted. Run along. [_Glad to escape, _ CATHERINE _leaves the room. _] He wasonly respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_Slaps_ FREDERIK _on theback. _] You're satisfied now, I hope?

FREDERIK. No, I am not. If _she_ hasn't noticed what he has in mind, _I_have. When I came into this room a few moments ago, --it was as plain asday. He's trying to make love to her under our very eyes. I saw him. Iwish you would ask him to stay in his office and attend to his ownbusiness. [JAMES _now re-enters on his way to the gardens. _]

PETER. James, it has just occurred to me--that--[_James pauses. _] Whatwas your reason for wanting to give up your position? Had it anything todo with my little girl?

JAMES. Yes, sir. 

PETER. You mean that--you--you love her?

JAMES. [_In a low voice. _] Yes, sir. 

PETER. O-ho! [FREDERIK _gives_ PETER _a glance as though to say, "Now, doyou believe it?"_

JAMES. But she doesn't know it, of course; she never would have known it. I never meant to say a word to her. I understand, sir. 

PETER. James! Come here . .. Here!. .. [_Bringing_ JAMES _up before him atthe desk. _] Get your money at the office. You may have that position inFlorida. Good-bye, James. 

JAMES. I'm very sorry that . .. Good-bye, sir. 

FREDERIK. You are not to tell her that you're going. You're not to bid hergood-bye. 

PETER. [_To_ FREDERIK. ] Sh! Let me attend to--

JAMES. [_Ignoring_ FREDERIK. ] I'm sorry, Mr. Grimm, that--[_His voice falters. _

PETER. [_Rising. _] James, I'm sorry, too. You've grown up here and--Tc!Tc! Good fortune to you--James. Get this notion out of your head, andperhaps one day you'll come back to us. We shall see. [_Shakes hands with_JAMES, _who leaves the room too much overcome to speak. _

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Who has entered, saying carelessly to_ JAMES _as hepasses him. _] Hy're you, Jim? Glad Jim's back. One of the finest lads Iever brought into this world. 

_The_ DOCTOR _is a man of about_ PETER'S _age, but more powerfully built. He has the bent shoulders of the student and his face is exceedinglyintellectual. He is the rare type of doctor who forgets to make out hisbills. He has a grizzled grey beard, and his hair is touched with grey. Hewears silver-rimmed spectacles. His substantial but unpressed clothing ismade by the village tailor. _

PETER. Good-morning, Andrew. 

FREDERIK. Good-morning, Doctor. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Casts a quick, professional glance at_ PETER. ] Peter, I've come over to have a serious word with you. Been on my mind all night. [_Brings down a chair and sits opposite_ PETER. ] I--er--Frederik . .. [FREDERIK, _who is not a favourite of the_ DOCTOR'S, _takes the hint andleaves the room_. ] Peter, have you provided for everybody in this house?

PETER. What? Have I--

DR. MACPHERSON. You're a terrible man for planning, Peter; but what haveyou done? [_Casually_. ] Were you to die, --say to-morrow, --how would it bewith--[_Making a gesture to include the household_. ]--the rest of them?

PETER. What do you mean? If I were to die to-morrow . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. You won't. Don't worry. Good for a long time yet, butevery one must come to it--sooner or later. I mean--what would Katie'sposition be in this house? I know you've set your heart upon her marryingFrederik, and all that sort of nonsense, but will it work? I've alwaysthought 'twas a pity Frederik wasn't James and James wasn't Frederik. 

PETER. What!

DR. MACPHERSON. Oh, it's all very well if she wants Frederik, butsupposing she does not. Peter, if you mean to do something for her--do it_now_. 

PETER. Now? You mean that I--You mean that I might . .. Die?

DR. MACPHERSON. All can and do. 

PETER. [_Studying the_ DOCTOR'S _face_. ] You think . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. The machinery is wearing out, Peter. Thought I should tellyou. No cause for apprehension, but--

PETER. Then why tell me?

DR. MACPHERSON. When I cured you of that cold--wet flowerbeds--two daysago, I made a discovery. [_Seeing_ CATHERINE _enter, he pauses. She isfollowed by_ MARTA, _carrying a tray containing coffee and a plate ofwaffles_. ] Coffee! I told you not to touch coffee, Peter. It's rankpoison. 

CATHERINE. Wouldn't you like a cup, Doctor?

PETER. Yes he'll take a cup. He won't prescribe it, but he'll drink it. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Horrified_. ] And hot waffles between meals!

PETER. Yes, he'll take hot waffles, too. [MARTA _goes to get another plateand more waffles, and_ CATHERINE _follows her_. ] Now, Andrew, you can'ttell me that I'm sick. I won't have it. Every day we hear of some old boyone hundred years of age who was given up by the doctors at twenty. No, sir! I'm going to live to see children in my house, --Katie's babiescreeping on my old floor; playing with my old watch-dog, Toby. I'vepromised myself a long line of rosy Grimms. 

DR. MACPHERSON. My God, Peter! That dog is fifteen years old now. Do youexpect nothing to change in your house? Man, you're a home worshipper. However, I--I see no reason why--[_Lying_. ]you shouldn't reach a ripe oldage. [_Markedly, though feigning to treat the subject lightly_. ] Er--Peter, I should like to make a compact with you . .. That whoever _does_ gofirst--and you're quite likely to outlive me, --is to come back and let theother fellow know . .. And settle the question. Splendid test between oldneighbours--real contribution to science. 

PETER. Make a compact to--stuff and nonsense!

DR. MACPHERSON. Don't be too sure of that. 

PETER. No, Andrew, no, positively, no. I refuse. Don't count upon me forany assistance in your spook tests. 

DR. MACPHERSON. And how many times do you think _you've_ been a spookyourself? You can't tell me that man is perfect; that he doesn't live morethan one life; that the soul doesn't go on and on. Pshaw! The persistentpersonal energy must continue, or what _is_ God? [CATHERINE _hasre-entered with another cup, saucer and plate which she sets on the table, and pours out the coffee. _

CATHERINE. [_Interested_. ] Were you speaking of--of ghosts, Doctor?

PETER. Yes, he has begun again. [_To_ CATHERINE. ] You're just in time tohear it. [_To_ DR. MACPHERSON. ] Andrew, I'll stay behind, contented in_this_ life; knowing what I have here on earth, and you shall die andreturn with your--ha!--persistent personal whatever-it-is, and keep thespook compact. Every time a knock sounds, or a chair squeaks, or the doorbangs, I shall say, "Sh! There's the Doctor!"

CATHERINE. [_Noticing a book which the_ DOCTOR _has taken from his pocket, and reading the title_. ] "Are the Dead Alive?"

DR. MACPHERSON. I'm in earnest, Peter. _I'll_ promise and I want you topromise, too. Understand that I am not a so-called spiritist. I am merelya seeker after truth. [_Puts more sugar in his coffee_. 

PETER. That's what they _all_ are--seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do youreally believe such stuff?

DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here--here--nearus--close at hand. [PETER, _in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peepsunder the table--then, taking the lid off the sugar-bowl, peers into it_. ]Some of the great scientists of the day are of the same opinion. 

PETER. Bah! Dreamers! They accomplish nothing in the world. They wastetheir lives dreaming of the world to come. 

DR. MACPHERSON. You can't call Sir Charles Crookes, the inventor ofCrookes Tubes, --a waster? Nor Sir Oliver Lodge, the great biologist; norCurie, the discoverer of radium; nor Doctor Lombroso, the founder ofScience of Criminology; nor Doctors Maxwell, deVesmé, Richet, ProfessorJames, of Harvard, and our own Professor Hyslop. Instead of laughing atghosts, the scientific men of to-day are trying to lay hold of them. Thefrauds and cheats are being crowded from the field. Science is only justpeeping through the half-opened door which was shut until a few years ago. 

PETER. If ever I see a ghost, I shall lay violent hands upon it and takeit to the police station. That's the proper place for frauds. 

DR. MACPHERSON. I'm sorry, Peter, very sorry, to see that you, like toomany others, make a jest of the most important thing in life. Hyslop isright: man will spend millions to discover the North Pole, but not a pennyto discover his immortal destiny. 

PETER. [_Stubbornly_. ] I don't believe in spook mediums and never shallbelieve in them. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Probably most professional mediums cheat--perhaps everyone of them; but some of them are capable of real demonstrations at times. 

PETER. Once a swindler, always a swindler. Besides, why can't my oldfriends come straight back to me and say, "Peter Grimm, here I am!" Whenthey do--if they do--I shall be the first man to take off my hat to themand hold out my hand in welcome. 

DR. MACPHERSON. You ask me why? Why can't a telegram travel on a fenceinstead of on a wire? Your friends could come back to you if you could putyourself in a receptive condition; but if you cannot, you must depend upona medium--a sensitive. 

PETER. A what? [_To_ CATHERINE. ] Something new, eh? He has all the namesfor them. Yesterday it was "apports"--flowers that fell down from nowhereand hit you on the nose. He talks like a medium's parrot. He has only toclose his eyes and along comes the parade. Spooks! Spooky spooks! And nowhe wants me to settle my worldly affairs and join in the procession. 

CATHERINE. [_Puzzled_. ] Settle your worldly affairs? What do you mean, Uncle Peter?

PETER. [_Evasively_. ] Just some more of his nonsense. Doctor, you've seena good many cross to the other world; tell me--did you ever see one ofthem come back--one?

DR. MACPHERSON. No. 

PETER. [_Sipping his coffee_. ] Never have, eh? And never will. Takeanother cup of poison, Andrew. 

_The_ DOCTOR _gives his cup to_ CATHERINE, _who fills it_. PETER _passesthe waffles to the_ DOCTOR, _at the same time winking at_ CATHERINE _asthe_ DOCTOR _takes another_. 

DR. MACPHERSON. There was not perhaps the intimate bond between doctor andpatients to bring them back. But in my own family, I have known of a case. 

PETER. [_Apart to_ CATHERINE. ] He's off again. 

CATHERINE. [_Eager to listen_. ] Please don't interrupt, Uncle. I love tohear him tell of--

DR. MACPHERSON. I have known of a return such as you mention. A distantcousin died in London and she was seen almost instantly in New York. 

PETER. She must have travelled on a biplane, Andrew. 

DR. MACPHERSON. If my voice can be heard from San Francisco over thetelephone, why cannot a soul with a God-given force behind it dart overthe entire universe? Is Thomas Edison greater than God?

CATHERINE. [_Shocked_. ] Doctor!

DR. MACPHERSON. And they can't tuck it _all_ on telepathy. Telepathycannot explain the case of a spirit-message giving the contents of asealed letter known only to the person that died. Here's anotherinteresting case. 

PETER. This is better than "Puss in Boots, " isn't it, Katie? More--er--flibbertigibberty. Katie always loved fairy stories. 

CATHERINE. [_Listening eagerly_. ] Uncle, please. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Ignoring_ PETER, _speaking directly to_ CATHERINE, _whois all attention_. ] An officer on the Polar vessel, the _Jeannette_, sentto the Artic regions by the New York _Herald_, appeared at his wife'sbedside. _She_ was in Brooklyn--_he_ was on the Polar sea. He said to her, "Count. " She distinctly heard a ship's bell and the word "Count" again. She had counted six when her husband's voice said, "Six bells--and the_Jeanette_ is lost. " The ship was really lost at the time she saw thevision. 

PETER. A bad dream. "Six bells and the"--Ha! Ha! Spirit messages! Suetpudding has brought me messages from the North Pole, and I receivemessages from Kingdom Come after I've eaten a piece of mince pie. 

DR. MACPHERSON. There have been seventeen thousand other cases found to beworth investigation by the London Society of Psychical Research. 

PETER. [_Changing_. ] Supposing, Andrew, that I did "cross over"--I believethat's what you call dying, --that I _did_ want to come back to see how youand the little Katie and Frederik were getting on, how do you think Icould manage to do it?

DR. MACPHERSON. When we hypnotize subjects, Peter, our thoughts takepossession of them. As we enter their bodies, we take the place of asomething that leaves them--a shadow-self. This self can be sent out ofthe room--even to a long distance. This self leaves us entirely afterdeath on the first, second or third day, or so I believe. This is theforce which you would employ to come back to earth--the astral envelope. 

PETER. Yes, but what proof have you, Doctor, that I've got an--an astralenvelope. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Easily_. ] De Rochas has actually photographed it byradio-photography. 

PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!

DR. MACPHERSON. Mind you--they couldn't _see_ it when they photographedit. 

PETER. I imagine not. See it? Ho! Ho!

DR. MACPHERSON. It stood a few feet away from the sleeper, and was locatedby striking at the air and watching for the corresponding portion of thesleeper's body to recoil. By pricking a certain part of this shadow-selfwith a pin, the cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. The camerawas focussed on this part of the shadow-self for fifteen minutes. Theresult was the profile of a head. 

PETER. [_After a pause_. ] . .. You believe that?

DR. MACPHERSON. The experiment has been repeated again and again. Nobodyacquainted with the subject denies it now. 

PETER. Spook pictures taken by professional mediums! [_Turning away fromthe table as though he had heard enough. _

DR. MACPHERSON. De Rochas, who took the pictures of which I speak, is alawyer of standing; and the room was full of scientists who saw thepictures taken. 

PETER. Hypnotized--all of them. Humbug, Andrew!

DR. MACPHERSON. Under these conditions, it is quite impossible tohypnotize a room full of people. Perhaps you think the camera washypnotized? In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural currentof cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer severaldegrees. Can you hypnotize a thermometer?

CATHERINE. [_Impressed_. ] That's wonderful, Doctor!

PETER. Yes, it's a very pretty fairy story; but it would sound better setto shivery music. [_Sings_. ] Tol! Dol! Dol! Dol! [_Rising to get his pipeand tobacco_. ] No, sir! I refuse to agree to your compact. You cannot pickthe lock of heaven's gate. We don't come back. God did enough for us whenhe gave us life and strength to work and the work to do. He owes us noexplanations. I believe in the old-fashioned paradise with a locked gate. [_He fills his pipe and lights it_. ] No bogies for me. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising_. ] Peter, I console myself with the thought thatmen have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism, daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy andlighting by gas. [_Showing feeling_. ] I'm very much disappointed that yourefuse my request. 

PETER. [_Laying down his pipe on the table_. ] Since you take it soseriously--here--[_Offers his hand_. ] I'll agree. I know you're an oldfool--and I'm another. Now then--[_Shakes hands. _] it's settled. Whichever one shall go first--[_He bursts into laughter--then controllinghimself_. ] If I do come back, I'll apologize, Andrew. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Do you mean it?

PETER. I'll apologize. Wait [_Taking the keys from the sideboard_. ], letus seal the compact in a glass of my famous plum brandy. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Good!

PETER. [_As he passes off_. ] We'll drink to spooks. 

CATHERINE. You really do believe, Doctor, that the dead can come back, don't you?

DR. MACPHERSON. Of course I do, and why not?

CATHERINE. Do you believe that you could come back here into this room andI could see you?

DR. MACPHERSON. You might not see me; but I could come back to this room. 

CATHERINE. Could you talk to me?

DR. MACPHERSON. Yes. 

CATHERINE. And could I hear you?

DR. MACPHERSON. I believe so. That's what we're trying to make possible. [CATHERINE, _still wondering, passes off with the tray. From the cellar, _PETER _can be heard singing lustily. _

PETER. "If you want a bite that's good to eat, (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!) Try out a goose that's fat and sweet, (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!")

_During the song, _ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _has given a quick tap on the door andentered. She is about forty years of age. Her faded brown hair is streakedwith grey. She wears a plain black alpaca costume. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Agitated_. ] Good-morning, Doctor. Fortunate that Ifound you alone. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Dryly_. ] Hy're you, Mrs. Batholommey?

_The_ REV. HENRY BATHOLOMMEY _now enters. He is a man of about forty-five, wearing the frock coat, high waistcoat and square topped hat of a ministerof the Dutch Reformed Church. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Hy're, Henry?

_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _bows. _ WILLIAM _has returned from his errandand entered the room, --a picture-book under his arm. He sits up by thewindow, absorbed in the pictures--unnoticed by the others. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Closing the door left open by_ PETER, _shutting outthe sound of his voice_. ] Well, Doctor . .. [_She pauses for a moment tocatch her breath and wipe her eyes_. ] I suppose you've told him he's gotto die. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Eyeing_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _with disfavour_. ] Who's got todie?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Why, Mr. Grimm, of course. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Amazed_. ] Does the whole damned town know it?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Oh!

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Easy, Doctor. You consulted Mr. Grimm's lawyer and_his_ wife told _my_ wife. 

DR. MACPHERSON. He gabbed, eh? Hang the professional man who tells thingsto his wife. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor!

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With solicitude_. ] I greatly grieve to hear thatMr. Grimm has an incurable malady. His heart, I understand. [_Shakes hishead. _

DR. MACPHERSON. He's not to be told. Is that clear? He may die in twentyminutes--may outlive us all--probably will. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Pointing to_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. ] It seems to me, Doctor, that if _you_ can't do any more, it's _his_ turn. It's a wonderyou Doctors don't baptize the babies. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. At the last minute, he'll want to make a will--and youknow he hasn't made one. He'll want to remember the church and hischarities and his friends; and if he dies before he can carry out hisintentions, the minister will be blamed as usual. It's not fair. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh! Sh! My dear! These private matters--

DR. MACPHERSON. I'll trouble you, Mistress Batholommey, to attend to yourown affairs. Did you never hear the story of the lady who flattened hernose--sticking it into other people's business?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor! Doctor! I can't have that!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Let him talk, Henry. No one in this town pays anyattention to Dr. MacPherson since he took up with spiritualism. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! [_He motions to her to be silent, as_ PETER, _coming up the stairs from the cellar, is heard singing_. 

PETER. "Drop in the fat some apples red, (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!) Then spread it on a piece of bread, (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!)"

[_He opens the door, carrying a big bottle in his hand; hailing the_BATHOLOMMEYS _cheerfully_. ] Good-morning, good people. [_He puts the jugon the sideboard and hangs up the key. The_ BATHOLOMMEYS _look sadly at_PETER. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _in the fore-ground tries to smile pleasantly, butcan only assume the peculiarly pained expression of a person about tobreak terrible news. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising to the occasion--warmly grasping_ PETER'S_hand_. ] Ah, my dear friend! Many thanks for the flowers William broughtus, and the noble cheque you sent me. We're still enjoying the vegetablesyou generously provided. I _did_ relish the squash. 

PETER. [_Catching a glimpse of_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY'S _gloomy expression_. ]Anything distressing you this morning, Mrs. Batholommey?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. No, no. .. . I hope _you're_ feeling well--er--I don'tmean that--I--

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Cheerily_. ] Of course, she does; and why not, whynot, dear friend?

PETER. Will you have a glass of my plum brandy?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly_. ] No, thank you. As you know, I belong to theW. C. T. U. 

PETER. Pastor?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Tolerantly_. ] No, thank you. I am also opposed toer--

PETER. We're going to drink to spooks--the Doctor and I. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With a startled cry_. ] Oh! [_Lifts her handkerchief toher eyes_. ] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea--you ofall people!

PETER. [_Coming down with two glasses--handing one to the_ DOCTOR. ] Youseem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a triflenervous to-day. We must all keep up our spirits, Mr. Grimm. 

PETER. Of course. Why not? [_Looking at_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY--_struck_. ]I know why you're crying. You've been to a church wedding. [_To the_DOCTOR, _lifting his glass_. ] To astral envelopes, Andrew. [_They drink. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With sad resignation_. ] You were always kind to us, dear Mr. Grimm. There never was a kinder, better, sweeter man than youwere. 

PETER. Than I _was_?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What _will_ become of William? [_Weeps_. 

PETER. William? Why should you worry over William? I am looking after him. I don't understand--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Seeing that she has gone too far_. ] I only meant--it'stoo bad he had such an M--

PETER. An M--?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_In pantomime--mouthing the word so that_ WILLIAM_cannot hear_. ] Mother . .. Annamarie. 

PETER. Oh! . .. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. She ought to have told you or Mr. Batholommey who theF-- was. 

PETER. F--?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_In pantomime--as before_. ] Father. 

PETER. Oh. .. [_Spelling out the word_. ] S-c-o-u-n-d-r-e-l--whoever he is![_Calls_. ] William. [WILLIAM _looks up from his book_. ] You're verycontented here with me, are you not?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. 

PETER. And you want to stay here?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. [_At that moment, a country circus band--playing atypical parade march--blares out as it comes up some distant street_. ]There's a circus in town. 

PETER. A circus?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. The parade has started. [_Opens the window and looksout towards left_. ] Here it comes--

PETER. [_Hurrying to the door_. ] Where? Where?

WILLIAM. [_Pointing_. ] There!

PETER. [_As delighted as_ WILLIAM. ] You're right. It's coming this way!Here come the chariots. [_Gestures to the_ BATHOLOMMEYS _to join him atthe window. The music comes nearer and nearer--the parade is supposed tobe passing. _ WILLIAM _gives a cry of delight as a clown appears at thewindow with handbills under his arm. _

THE CLOWN. [_As he throws the handbills into the room_. ] Billy Miller'sbig show and monster circus is in town this afternoon. Only one ring. Noconfusion. [_Seeing_ WILLIAM. ] Circus day comes but once a year, littlesir. Come early and see the wild animals and hear the lions roar-r-r!Mind! [_Holding up his finger to_ WILLIAM. ] I shall expect to see you. Wonderful troupe of trained mice in the side show. [_Sings_. ]

 "Uncle Rat has gone to town, Ha! H'm! Uncle Rat has gone to town To buy Miss Mouse a--"

[_Ends the song abruptly_. ] Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! [_The_ CLOWN _disappears, repeating "Billy Miller's Big Show, " &c. , until his voice is lost and thevoices of shouting children are heard as they run after him. _

PETER. [_Putting his hand in his pocket_. ] We'll go. You may buy thetickets, William--two front seats. [FREDERIK _re-enters with a floralcatalogue. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Apart to_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY--_looking at_ PETER. ]Somebody ought to tell him. 

WILLIAM. [_Getting the money from_ PETER. ] I'm going! I'm going![_Dances_. ] Oh, Mr. Grimm, there ain't anyone else like you in the world. When the other boys laugh at your funny old hat, _I_ never do. [_Pointingto_ PETER'S _hat on the peg. _

PETER. My hat? They laugh at my hat?

WILLIAM. We'll have such a good time at the circus. It's too bad you'vegot to die, Mr. Grimm. 

_There is a pause. _ PETER _stops short, looking at_ WILLIAM. _The othersare startled, but stand motionless, watching the effect of_ WILLIAM'S_revelation. _ FREDERIK _doesn't know what to make of it. There is anominous silence in the room. Then_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _whose smile has beenfrozen on her face, takes_ WILLIAM'S _hand and is about to draw him away, when_ PETER _lays his hand on_ WILLIAM'S _shoulder_. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY_steps back. _

PETER. [_Kindly_. ] Yes, William, most people have to. . .. What made youthink of it just then?

WILLIAM. [_Points to the_ DOCTOR. ] He said so. Perhaps in twenty minutes. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Quietly but very sternly_. ] William! [WILLIAM _nowunderstands that he should not have repeated what he heard. _

PETER. Don't frighten the boy. Only children tell the truth. Tell me, William--you heard the Doctor say that? [WILLIAM _is silent. He keeps hiseyes on the_ CLERGYMAN _who is looking at him warningly. The tears rundown his cheeks--he puts his fingers to his lips--afraid to speak_. ] Don'tbe frightened. You heard the Doctor say that?

WILLIAM. [_His voice trembling_. ] Y--es, sir. 

PETER. [_Looks round the room--beginning to understand_. ] . .. What did youmean, Andrew?

DR. MACPHERSON. I'll tell you, Peter, when we're alone. 

PETER. But . .. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _shakes her finger threateningly at_WILLIAM _who whimpers_. ] Never mind. It popped out; didn't it, William?Get the circus tickets and we'll have a fine time just the same. [WILLIAM_goes for the tickets. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I--er--good-morning, dear friend. [_Takes_ PETER'S_hand_. ] Any time you 'phone for me--day or night--I'll run overinstantly. God bless you, sir. I've never come to you for any worthycharity and been turned away--never. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Suddenly overcome_] Good-bye, Mr. Grimm. [_In tears, she follows her husband. The_ DOCTOR _and_ PETER _look at each other_. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Cigar in mouth--very abruptly_] It's cardiac valvular--alittle valve--[_Tapping heart_]--here. [_Slaps_ PETER _on the shoulder_]There's my 'phone, [_As a bell is heard faintly but persistently ringingacross the street_] I'll be back. [_Catches up his hat to hasten off. _

PETER. Just a minute. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Turning_] Don't fret yourself, Peter. You're not toimagine you're worse than you are. [_Angrily_. ] Don't funk!

PETER. [_Calmly_] That wasn't my reason for detaining you, Andrew. [_Witha twinkle in his eye_] I merely wanted to say--

DR. MACPHERSON. Yes?

PETER. That if there is anything in that ghost business of yours, I won'tforget to come back and apologize for my want of faith. [_The_ DOCTOR_goes home_. FREDERIK _stands looking at his_ UNCLE. _There is a longpause. _ PETER _throws up both hands_] Rubbish! Doctors are very oftenwrong. It's all guess work, eh, Fritz?

FREDERIK. [_Thinking of his future in case of_ PETER'S _death_] Yes, sir. 

PETER. However, to be on the safe side, I'll take that nip of plum brandy. [_Then thinking aloud_. ] Not yet . .. Not yet . .. I'm not ready to die yet. I have so much to live for. . .. When I'm older . .. When I'm a little oldleaf ready to curl up, eh, Fritz? [_He drains the glass. Goes up to thepeg, takes dawn his hat, looks at it as though remembering_ WILLIAM'S_words, then puts it back on the peg. He shows no sign of taking_ DR. MACPHERSON'S _verdict to heart--in fact, he doesn't believe it_. ]Frederik, get me some small change for the circus--enough for William andme. 

FREDERIK. Are you going . .. After all? . .. And with that child?

PETER. Why not?

FREDERIK. [_Suddenly showing feeling_. ] That little tattler? A child thatlistens to everything and just told you . .. He shouldn't be allowed inthis part of the house. He should be sent away. 

PETER. [_Astonished_. ] Why do you dislike him, Frederik? He's a finelittle fellow. You surprise me, my boy . .. [CATHERINE _enters and goes tothe piano, running her hands softly over the keys--playing no melody inparticular. _ PETER _sits in his big chair at the table and picks up hispipe. _ FREDERIK, _with an inscrutable face, now strikes a match and holdsit to his uncle's pipe_. PETER _thoughtfully takes one or two puffs; thenspeaking so as not to be heard by_ CATHERINE. ] Frederik, I want to thinkthat after I'm gone, everything will be the same here . .. Just as it isnow. 

FREDERIK. Yes, sir. [_Sitting near_ PETER. 

PETER. Just as it is . .. [FREDERIK _nods assent_. PETER _smokes. The roomis very cheerful. The bright midday sunshine creeps through the windows, --almost causing a haze in the room--and resting on the pots and vases andbright flowers on the tables. _

CATHERINE. [_Singing_. ] "The bird so free in the heavens"--

PETER. [_Looking up--still in thought--seeming not to hear the song_. ] Andmy charities attended to. [FREDERIK _nods assent_. 

CATHERINE. "Is but the slave of the nest; For all must toil as God wills it, -- Must laugh and toil and rest. "

PETER. [_Who has been thinking_. ] Just as though I were here. 

CATHERINE. "The rose must blow in the garden"--

PETER. William, too. Don't forget _him_, Frederik. 

FREDERIK. No, Uncle. 

CATHERINE. "The bee must gather its store; The cat must watch the mouse-hole; The dog must guard the door. "

PETER. [_As though he had a weight off his mind_. ] We won't speak of thisagain. It's understood. [_Smokes, listening with pleasure as_ CATHERINE_finishes the song_. 

CATHERINE. [_Repeats the chorus_. ] "The cat must watch the mouse-hole; The dog must guard the door. La la, La la, " &c. 

_At the close of the song, _ PETER _puts down his pipe and beckons to_CATHERINE. 

PETER. Give me the Book. [CATHERINE _brings the Bible to_ PETER _as thegarden bell rings outside_. 

FREDERIK. Noon. 

PETER. [_Opening the Book at the history of the family--points to theclosely written page_. ] Under my name I want to see this written:"Married: Catherine and Frederik. " I want to see you settled, Katie--[_Smiling_] settled happily for life. [_He takes her hand and draws_FREDERIK _towards his chair_. CATHERINE, _embarrassed, plays with a rosein her belt_. ] Will you?. .. 

CATHERINE. I . .. I don't know. .. . 

PETER. [_Taking the rose and her hand in his own_] I know for you, mydear. Make me happy. 

CATHERINE. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy, Uncle, but--

FREDERIK. You know that I love you, Kitty. 

PETER. Yes, yes, yes. _That's_ all understood. He has always loved you. Everybody knows it. 

CATHERINE. Uncle. .. 

PETER. Make it a June wedding. We have ten days yet. [_Slipping her handin_ FREDERIK'S, _taking the rose, and tapping their clasped hands with theflower as he speaks. _

FREDERIK. Say yes, Kitty. 

CATHERINE. [_Nervously_] I couldn't in ten days. .. . 

FREDERIK. But--

PETER. [_To_ FREDERIK. ] Who is arranging the marriage, you or I? Say amonth, then, Katie. .. . Promise me. 

CATHERINE. [_Her lips set. _] If you have set your heart on it, I will, Uncle Peter . .. I will . .. I promise. 

PETER. [_Takes a ring of his hand. _] The wedding ring--my dear mother's. [_Gives it to_ CATHERINE. ] You've made me very happy, my dear. [_Hekisses_ CATHERINE. _Then, releasing her, he nods to_ FREDERIK _to followhis example. _ PETER _turns his back on the young people and smokes. _

FREDERIK. Catherine . .. [_Dreading his embrace, she retreats towards_PETER _and, as she touches him, his pipe falls to the floor. She looks athim, startled. _ FREDERIK, _struck, looking intently at_ PETER _who sitsmotionless. _

CATHERINE. Uncle Peter . .. Uncle! What is it? What's the matter? [_Runs tothe door--calling across the street. _] Doctor! There he is--just goingout. [_Calls. _] Come back. Come back, Doctor. [_To_ FREDERIK. ] I felt it. I felt something strange a minute ago. I felt it. 

FREDERIK. [_Taking_ PETER'S _hand. _] Uncle Peter!

CATHERINE. [_Coming back to_ PETER _and looking at him transfixed. _] UnclePeter! Answer me! . .. It's Katie!

_The_ DOCTOR _enters hurriedly. _

DR. MACPHERSON. Is it . .. Peter? [_He goes quickly to_ PETER _and listensto his heart. _ CATHERINE _and_ FREDERIK _on either side of him. The_DOCTOR _with tender sympathy takes_ CATHERINE _in his arms. _

WILLIAM. [_Rushes in with two tickets in his hand, leaving the door open. The circus music is faintly heard. _] Mr. Grimm!

DR. MACPHERSON. Sh! [_A pause as though breaking the news to them all. _]He's gone. 

FREDERIK. [_Questioningly--dazed. _] Dead? [CATHERINE _is overcome. _

WILLIAM. [_At_ PETER'S _side--holding up the circus ticket. _] He can't bedead . .. I've got his ticket to the circus. 

CURTAIN. 

ACT II. 

SCENE. _The second act takes place ten days later, towards the closeof a rainy afternoon. A fire is burning in the grate and a basketof hickory wood stands beside the hearth. _ PETER'S _hat is no longer onthe peg. His pipes and jar of tobacco are missing. A number of weddingpresents are set on a table, some unopened. The interior of the room, withits snapping fire, forms a pleasant contrast to the gloomy exterior. Theday is fading into dusk. _ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _is at the piano, playing thewedding march from "Lohengrin. " Four little girls are grouped about her, singing the words to the air. _

 _"Faithful and true: We lead ye forth, Where love triumphant Shall lighten the way. "_

 _"Bright star of love, Flower of the earth, Shine on ye both On Love's perfect day. "_

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. That's better. Children, remember that this is to be avery _quiet_ wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You're not tospeak as you enter the room and take your places near the piano. MissStaats will come down from her room, --at least I suppose she will--andwill stand . .. [_Thinks. _] I don't know where--but you're to stop when _I_look at you. Watch me as though I were about to be married. [_She takesher place at the foot of the stairs and the children repeat the song untilshe has marched across the room and stationed herself in some appropriatecorner. As_ FREDERIK _appears from the hall, where he leaves his raincoatand umbrella, _ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _motions the children to silence. _] Thatwill do, dears, thank you. Hurry home between showers. [_The children goas she explains to_ FREDERIK. ] My Sunday-school scholars. .. . I thoughtyour dear uncle would like a song at the wedding. I know how bright andcheery he would have been--poor man. Dear, noble, charitable soul!

FREDERIK. [_In a low voice. _] Where's Catherine?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Taking up her fancy work, seating herself. _] Upstairs. 

FREDERIK. With that sick child? Tc!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Catherine finds it a pleasure to sit beside the littlefellow. William is very much better. 

FREDERIK. [_Taking a telegram from his pocket-book. _] Well, we shall soonbe off to Europe. I've just had a telegram to say a cabin has beenreserved for me on the _Imperator_. To-morrow, thank God, we shall takethe afternoon train to New York. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I must confess that I'm very glad. Of course, I'm happyto stay and chaperone Catherine; but poor Mr. Batholommey has been aloneat the parsonage for ten days . .. Ever since your dear uncle . .. [_Pauses, unwinding yarn, then unburdening her mind. _] I didn't think at first thatCatherine could persuade herself to marry you. 

FREDERIK. [_Sharply. _] I don't understand you, Mrs. Batholommey. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I mean she seemed so averse to--to an immediatemarriage; but of course it was your uncle's last request, and thatinfluenced her more than anything else. So it's to be a June wedding, after all; he has his wish. You'll be married in ten days from the time heleft us. [_Remembering. _] Some more letters marked personal came for himwhile you were out. I put them in the drawer--[_Points to desk. _] withthe rest. It seems odd to think the postman brings your uncle's lettersregularly, yet _he_ is not here. 

FREDERIK. [_Looking towards the door of the office. _] Did Hartman come?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes. He seemed rather surprised that you'd sent for him. 

FREDERIK. Did you--er--tell him that we intend to leave to-morrow?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I spoke of your wedding trip, --yes. 

FREDERIK. Did he seem inclined to stay?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He didn't say. He seemed very much agitated. [MARTA_enters, carrying a night lamp. _] We'll pack Miss Catherine's thingsto-night, Marta. [_She notices the lamp. _] The night lamp for William?[_Looks up towards the door of his room. _] Go in very quietly. He'sasleep, I think. [MARTA _goes up the stairs and into_ WILLIAM'S _room. _]By the way, Mr. Batholommey was very much excited when he heard that youruncle had left a personal memorandum concerning us. We're anxious to hearit read. [FREDERIK, _paying no attention to her words, is glancing at thewedding presents. _] We're anxious to hear it read. 

JAMES. [_Entering. _] Did you wish to see me?

FREDERIK. [_Offering his hand to_ JAMES. ] How do you do, Hartman? I'm veryglad you consented to come back. My uncle never went into his office againafter you left. There is some private correspondence concerning matters ofwhich I know nothing; it lies on your old desk. .. . I'm anxious to settleeverything to-night. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room. _

JAMES. Very well. I have no doubt but that I can get through with it bymidnight. 

FREDERIK. If you care to remain longer with the firm, I--er--

JAMES. No, thank you. 

FREDERIK. I appreciate the fact that you came on my uncle's account. Ihave no ill-feeling against you, Hartman. 

JAMES. I'm not refusing to stay because of any ill-feeling. I'm goingbecause I know that you'll sell out before your uncle's cold in his grave. I don't care to stay to see the old place change hands. 

FREDERIK. I? Sell out? My intention is to carry out every wish of my dearold uncle's. 

JAMES. I hope so. I haven't forgotten that you wanted him to sell out toHicks of Rochester on the very day he died. [_Exit into the office. _

CATHERINE _comes from_ WILLIAM'S _room, simply dressed in white--no touchof mourning. _ FREDERIK _goes to the foot of the stairs and calls softly. _

FREDERIK. Kitty! Here is our marriage license. I have the cabin on the_Imperator_. Everything is arranged. 

CATHERINE. [_Coming downstairs. _] Yes. . .. I meant to speak to you--again. 

FREDERIK. To-morrow's the day, dear. 

CATHERINE. [_Very subdued. _] Yes. .. . 

FREDERIK. A June wedding--just as Uncle Peter wished. 

CATHERINE. [_As before_. ] Yes. .. . Just as he wished. Everything is just ashe. .. . [_With a change of manner--earnestly--looking at_ FREDERIK. ]Frederik, I don't want to go away. I don't want to go to Europe. If only Icould stay quietly here in--[_Tears in her voice as she looks round theroom. _]--in my dear home. 

FREDERIK. Why do you want to stay in this old cottage--with its candlesand lamps and shadows? It's very gloomy, very depressing. 

CATHERINE. I don't want to leave this house. .. . I don't want any home butthis. [_Panic-stricken. _] Don't take me away Frederik. I know you've neverreally liked it at Grimm's Manor. Are you sure you'll want to come back tolive here?

FREDERIK. [_As though speaking to a child. _] Of course. I'll do anythingyou ask. 

CATHERINE. I--I've always wanted to please . .. [_After a slight pause, finding it difficult to speak his name. _] Uncle Peter. .. . I felt that Iowed everything to him. .. . If he had lived . .. If I could see _his_happiness at our marriage--it would make _me_ happy; [_Pathetically. _] buthe's gone . .. And . .. I'm afraid we're making a mistake. I don't feeltowards you as I ought, Frederik. I've told you again and again; but Iwant to tell you once more: I'm willing to marry you . .. But I don't loveyou--I never shall. 

FREDERIK. How do you know?

CATHERINE. I know . .. I know. .. . It seems so disloyal to speak like thisafter I promised _him_; but--

FREDERIK. Yes, you _did_ promise Uncle Peter you'd marry me, didn't you?

CATHERINE. Yes. 

FREDERIK. And he died believing you?

CATHERINE. Yes. 

FREDERIK. Then it all comes to this: are you going to live up to yourpromise?

CATHERINE. That's it. That's what makes me try to live up to it. [_Wipingher eyes. _] But you know how I feel. .. . You understand. .. . 

FREDERIK. Perfectly; you don't quite know your own mind. .. . Very few younggirls do, I suppose. I love you and in time you'll grow to care for me. [MARTA _re-enters from_ WILLIAM'S _room and closing the door comes downthe stairs and passes off. _] What _are_ we to do with that child?

CATHERINE. He's to stay here, of course. 

FREDERIK. The child should be sent to some institution. What claim has heon you--on any of us?

CATHERINE. Why do you dislike him?

FREDERIK. I don't, but--

CATHERINE. Yes, you do. I can't understand it. I remember how angry youwere when you came back from college and found him living here. You nevermention his mother's name, yet you played together as children. When Uncletried to find Annamarie and bring her back, you were the only one opposedto it. 

FREDERIK. William is an uncomfortable child to have in the house. He has away of staring at people as though he had a perpetual question on hislips. It's most annoying. 

CATHERINE. What question?

FREDERIK. As for his mother--I've never seen her since she left this houseand I don't care to hear her name on your lips. Her reputation is--[_Therain starts pattering on the shingled roof. _] Tc! More rain . .. The thirdday of it. .. . [_Going to the window--calling. _] Otto! [_Angrily. _] Otto!See what the wind has done--those trellises. [_Bangs the window shut. _]That old gardener should have been laid off years ago. .. . By the way, hisson James is here for a few hours--to straighten matters out. I must seehow he's getting on. [_Taking her hand, drawing her towards the table witha change of manner. _] Have you seen all the wedding presents, Kitty? I'llbe back in a few minutes. [_Pats her cheek and exits. _

CATHERINE _stands over her wedding presents just as he left her--notlooking at them--her eyes filled with tears. The door is suddenly openedand the_ DOCTOR _enters, a tweed shawl over his shoulders, wearing a tweedcap. He has a book under his arm. _

DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE _tries to hide her tears, but hesees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa. _] What'sthe matter?

CATHERINE. Nothing. .. . I was only thinking. .. . I was hoping that those welove . .. And lose . .. _can't_ see us here. I'm beginning to believethere's not much happiness in _this_ world. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talkinglike that with life before you! Read this book, child; [_Gesturing towardsthe book on the sofa. _] it proves that the dead do see us; they do comeback. [_Walks to the foot of the stairs--turns. _] Catherine, I understandthat you've not a penny to your name--unless you marry Frederik; that hehas inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let thatinfluence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look as though theydid--my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [_Goes half-way upthe stairs--then pauses. _] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a fewsilver spoons--[_Pointing to the wedding presents_ stand in the way ofyour future. [_Exit into_ WILLIAM'S _room. The rain increases. The skygrows blacker--the room darker. _ CATHERINE _gives a cry and stretches outher arms, not looking up. _

CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you askit? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [_She stands rigid--herarms outstretched. _ MARTA, _who has silently entered from the dining-roomwith fresh candles, goes to_ CATHERINE. CATHERINE _suddenly buries herface on_ MARTA'S _broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipesher eyes. _] There, there . .. I mustn't cry . .. Others have troubles, too, haven't they?

MARTA. Others have troubles, too. 

CATHERINE. I had hoped, Marta, that Annamarie would have heard of Uncle'sloss and come back to us at this time. .. . 

MARTA. If it had only brought us all together once more; but no message. .. Nothing . .. I cannot understand. 

CATHERINE. She knows that our door is open. .. . 

_The rain beats against the windows. A sharp double knock is heard at thedoor. _ CATHERINE _starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastilygoes into the next room, taking the_ DOCTOR'S _book with her. _ MARTA _hashurried towards the front door, when the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _and_COLONEL LAWTON _appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, toescape the storm. _ MARTA, _greeting them, passes of to tell_ FREDERIK _oftheir presence. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _wears a long, black cloth, rain-proof coat. _ COLONEL LAWTON _wears a rubber poncho. _ COLONEL LAWTON_is a tall man with a thin brown beard and moustache, about forty-eight. He is dressed in a Prince Albert coat, unpressed trousers, and a negligéeshirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head andpeering at people before answering them. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _setshis umbrella in the hall and the_ COLONEL _hangs his broad-brimmed hat onthe handle--as though to let it drip. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Brr! I believe it's raining icicles. 

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking off his overshoes. _] Gee Whillikins! What a day!Good thing the old windmill out yonder is tied up. Great weather forbaptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder. _FREDERIK _enters. _] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time youmentioned. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. How are you, Frederik?

COLONEL LAWTON _crosses to the fire, followed by the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. 

FREDERIK. [_Who has gone to the desk for a paper lying under apaper-weight. _] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. Ionly came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. Aflash of lightning illuminates the room. _

COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, buthe always tore 'em up. May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?

FREDERIK. Help yourself. Pastor?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Er--er--

COLONEL LAWTON _goes to the sideboard and pours out two drinks from adecanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap. _ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her handsover her face. _ COLONEL LAWTON _bolts his whiskey. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _takes a glass and stands with it in his hand. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Removing her hands in time to see the brandy. _] Why, Henry! What are you doing? Are your feet wet?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, Rose; they're not. I want a drink and I'm goingto take it. It's a bad night. [_Drinks. _

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazesup, making the room much lighter. _] Go ahead, Frederik. [_Sits. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seatshimself before the snapping hickory fire. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friendsand his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was thevery soul of generosity. He gave in such a free-handed, princely fashion. 

FREDERIK. [_Reading in a businesslike manner. _] For Mrs. Batholommey--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. The dear man--to think that he remembered me! I knewhe'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think thathe'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was sothoughtful! His purse was always open. 

FREDERIK. [_Eyes_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _for a second, then continues. _] ForMr. Batholommey--[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _nods solemnly. _] and the Colonel. 

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking out a cigar. _] He knew that I did the best Icould for him . .. [_His voice breaks. _] the grand old man. [_Recovering. _]What'd he leave me? Mrs. B. --er? [_Nods inquiringly at_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _who bows assent, and he lights his cigar. _

FREDERIK. [_Glancing at the paper. _] Mrs. Batholommey, he wished you tohave his miniature--with his affectionate regards. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear old gentleman--and er--yes?

FREDERIK. To Mr. Batholommey--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. But--er--you didn't finish with me. 

FREDERIK. You're finished. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I'm finished?

FREDERIK. You may read it yourself if you like. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, no, no. She'll take your word for it. [_Firmly. _] Rose!

FREDERIK. [_Reads. _] "To Mr. Batholommey, my antique watch fob--with myprofound respects. " [_Continues. _] To Colonel Lawton--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is _that_ what he left to _Henry_? Isthat all? [_As_ FREDERIK _nods. _] Well! If he had no wish to make _your_life easier, Henry, he should at least have left something for the church. Oh! Won't the congregation have a crow to pick with you!

FREDERIK. [_Reading. _] "To my life-long friend, Colonel Lawton, I leave mymost cherished possession. " [COLONEL LAWTON _has a look on his face asthough he were saying, "Ah! I'll get something worth while. "_

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Angrily. _] When the church members hear that--

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Chewing his cigar. _] I don't know why he was called uponto leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only lastmonth, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give yousomething he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and thefob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell, --it's the sentiment of the thingthat counts--[_Chewing the word with his cigar. _] the sentiment. Drive on, Fred. 

FREDERIK. "To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer-book. "

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Suddenly changing--dazed. _] His prayer-book . .. Me?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Seeing_ FREDERIK _lay down the paper and rise. _] Isthat all?

FREDERIK. That's all. 

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Still dazed. _] A prayer-book. .. . Me? Well, I'll be--[_Struck. _] Here, Parson, let's swap. You take the prayer-book--I'll takethe old fob. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly. _] Thank you. I already _have_ aprayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to theothers--trying to control his feelings. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation anddisappointment. _] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in youruncle. 

COLONEL LAWTON. Is it for this you hauled us out in the rain, Frederik?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Bitterly. _] I see now . .. He only gave to the churchto show off. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! . .. I myself am disappointed, but--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He did! Or why didn't he _continue_ his work? He was_not_ a generous man. He was a hard, uncharitable, selfish old man. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Horrified. _] Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. Thecongregation sicked _you_ after him. Now that he's gone and you'll getnothing more, they'll call you slow--slow and pokey. You'll see! You'llsee to-morrow. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. As for the Colonel, who spent half his time with Mr. Grimm, what is his reward? A watch-fob! [_Prophetically. _] Henry, mark mywords--this will be the end of _you_. It's only a question of a few weeks. One of these new football playing ministers, just out of college, willtake _your_ place. It's not what you _preach_ now that counts; it's whatyou coax out of the rich parishioners' pockets. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_In a low voice. _] _Mrs. _ Batholommey!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Religion doesn't stand where it did, Henry--there's nodenying that. There was a time when people had to go to church--theyweren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The churchneeds funds in these days when a college professor is openly saying that--[_Her voice breaks. _] the Star of Bethlehem was a comet. [_Weeps. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Control yourself. I must insist upon it, Mrs. Batholommey. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Breaking down--almost breathlessly. _] Oh! If I saidall the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm--well--I shouldn't befit to be a clergyman's wife. Not to leave his dear friends a--

COLONEL LAWTON. He _wasn't_ liberal; but, for God's sake, madam, pullyourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!--I'velistened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up mybusiness for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not abutton! A bible. Still _I'm_ not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON _stirs the fire--a log falls out and theflame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the nightapproaches. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Turning on_ COLONEL LAWTON. ] Oh, you've feathered yournest, Colonel! You're a rich man. 

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Enraged, raising his voice. _] What? I never came herethat _you_ weren't begging. 

FREDERIK. [_Virtuously--laying down the paper. _] Well, I'm disgusted! WhenI think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled outmoney to every one of you!

COLONEL LAWTON. What?

FREDERIK. He was putty in your hands. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes, you can afford to defend his memory--you've got themoney. 

FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and thewhole town knew it. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by thehour. 

FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Whynot? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I hadthe pleasure of watching him give you the money that belonged to me--to_me_--my money. .. . What business had he to be generous with my money?[_The_ COLONEL _strikes a match to light his cigar, and, as it flares up, the face of_ FREDERIK _is seen--distorted with anger. _] I'll tell youthis: had he lived much longer, there would have been nothing left for me. It's a fortunate thing for me that--[_He pauses, knowing that he has saidtoo much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything isquiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Solemnly--breaking the pause. _] Young man, itmight have been better had Mr. Grimm given his _all_ to charity--for hehas left his money to an ingrate. 

FREDERIK. [_Laughing derisively. _] Ha! Ha!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh! Someone's coming. 

_All is quiet. The clock ticks in the dark. The door opens. _

FREDERIK. [_With a change of voice. _] Come in. [_Nobody enters. _] Where'sa light? We've been sitting in the dark like owls. Come in. [_A pause. Hestrikes a match and holds it above his head. The light shows the opendoor. A wind, blowing through the doorway, causes the match to flicker, and_ FREDERIK _protects it with his hand. _

COLONEL LAWTON. I'll see who's . .. [_Looks out. _] No one. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Someone _must_ be there. Who opened the door? [_The windputs out the match in_ FREDERIK'S _hand. The room is once more insemi-darkness. _] There . .. It closed again . .. [FREDERIK _strikes anothermatch and holds it up. The door is seen to be closed. _

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Who is nearest to the door. _] I didn't touch it. 

FREDERIK. [_Blowing out the match. _] I'll have the lamps brought in. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Curious . .. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. It was the wind--a draught. 

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Returning to his chair. _] Must have been. 

CATHERINE. [_Entering with a lamp. _] Did someone call me?

_Without pausing, she sets the lamp on the table down right--opposite thegroup of characters. She turns up the wick and _PETER GRIMM _is seenstanding in the room--half in shadow. He is as he was in life. The clotheshe wears appear to be those he wore about his house in the first act. Hecarries his hat in his hand. He has the same kind smile, the samedeferential manner, but his face is more spiritual and years younger. Thelamp, which _CATHERINE_ has placed on the table, brightens the room. _

PETER. [_Whose eyes never leave_ CATHERINE. ] Yes . .. I called you. .. . I'vecome back. 

FREDERIK. [_To_ CATHERINE. ] No. 

PETER. Don't be frightened, Katie. It's the most natural thing in theworld. You wanted me and I came. 

FREDERIK. Why? What made you think someone called you?

CATHERINE. I'm so accustomed to hear Uncle Peter's voice in this room, that sometimes I forget he's not here . .. I can't get over it! I wasalmost sure I heard him speak . .. But, of course, as soon as I came in--Iremembered. .. . But some one must have called me. 

FREDERIK. No. 

PETER _stands looking at them, perplexed; not being able to comprehend asyet that he is not seen. _

CATHERINE. Isn't it curious . .. To hear your name and turn and . .. [_Unconsciously, she looks in_ PETER'S _face. _] no one there?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Kindly. _] Nerves . .. Imagination. 

FREDERIK. You need a complete change. [_Crossing to the door. _] Forheaven's sake, let's have more light or we shall all be hearing voices. 

PETER. Strange. .. . Nobody seems to see me. .. . It's--it's extraordinary!Katie! . .. Katie! . .. [_His eyes have followed_ CATHERINE _who is now atthe door. _

CATHERINE. [_Pausing. _] Perhaps it was the book I was reading that made methink I heard. .. . The Doctor lent it to me. 

FREDERIK. [_Pooh-poohing. _] Oh!

CATHERINE. [_Half to herself. _] If he _does_ know, if he _can_ see, he'llbe comforted by the thought that I'm going to do everything he wanted. [_She passes out of the room. _

PETER. [_Showing that he does not want her to carry out his wishes. _] No, no, don't . .. Frederik, I want to speak to you. 

[FREDERIK, _not glancing in_ PETER'S _direction, lights a cigarette. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Well, Frederik, I hope the old gentleman can see hismistake _now_. 

PETER. I can see several mistakes. [REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _rises and goestowards the door, pausing in front of_ PETER _to take out his watch. _] . .. Mr. Batholommey, I'm glad to see you in my house. .. . I'm very sorry thatyou can't see me. I wasn't pleased with my funeral sermon; it was verygloomy--very. I never was so depressed in my life. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_To_ FREDERIK. ] Do you know what I should like to sayto your uncle?

PETER. I know. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I hope at least you'll care for the parish poor asyour uncle did--and keep on with _some_ of his charities. 

PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY'S _shoulder. _] That'sall attended to. I arranged all that with Frederik. He must look after mycharities. 

FREDERIK. I might as well tell you now--you needn't look to me. It's UnclePeter's fault if your charities are cut off. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Half-doubtingly. _] It doesn't seem possible thathe made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK _remainsstolid. _ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _puts back his watch after glancing at it. _]Just thirty minutes to make a call. [_Goes into the hall to put on hisovershoes, coat, &c. , leaving_ PETER'S _hand extended in the air. _

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Rising. _] I must be toddling. [_Pauses. _] It's queer, Frederik, how things turn out in this world. [_He stands, thinking mattersover--cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin. _

PETER. [_Slipping his hand through_ COLONEL LAWTON'S _arm. They seem tolook each other in the eye. _] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, Ishould have made a will . .. I--suppose it _is_ a little too late, isn'tit?. .. It would be--er--unusual to do it now, wouldn't it?

COLONEL LAWTON, _who has heard nothing--seen nothing--moves away asthough_ PETER _had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for hiscape and overshoes. _

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Noticing an old gold-headed walking-stick in the hall. _]Oh, er--what are you going to do with all the old man's family relics, Frederik?

FREDERIK. The junk, you mean? I shall lay it on some scrap-heap, Isuppose. It's not worth a penny. 

COLONEL LAWTON. I'm not so sure of that. They say there's a lot of moneypaid for this sort of trash. 

FREDERIK. Is that so? Not a bad idea to have a dealer in to look it over. 

PETER _stands listening, a faint smile on his face. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. If I could have the old clock--cheap, Frederik, I'd takeit off your hands. 

FREDERIK. I'll find out how much it's worth. I shall have everythingappraised. [_Sets his watch by the clock. _ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _gives him alook and joins her husband at the door. _

COLONEL LAWTON. Good-night. [_Exit, closing the door. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_As_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _goes out--calling afterhim. _] Henry, Catherine wants you to come back for supper. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room too disgusted for words. _ FREDERIK _goes intothe office. _

PETER. [_Now alone. _] We live and learn . .. And oh! what I have learnedsince I came back. .. . [_He goes to his own particular peg in the vestibuleand hangs up his hat. He glances at the wedding presents. Presently hesees the flowers which_ CATHERINE _has placed on the desk. With a smile, he touches the flowers. _ MARTA _enters with another lamp, which she placeson a table. As_ PETER'S _eyes rest on_ MARTA, _he nods and smiles inrecognition, waiting for a response. _] Well, Marta?. .. Don't you knowyour old master?. .. No?. .. No?. .. [_She winds the clock and leaves theroom. _] I seem to be a stranger in my own house . .. Yet the watch-dog knewme and wagged his tail as I came in. [_He stands trying to comprehend itall. _] Well! Well!

FREDERIK. [_Looking at his watch, re-enters from the office and goes tothe 'phone, which presently rings. _ FREDERIK _instantly lifts the receiveras though not wishing to attract attention. In a low voice. _] Yes . .. Iwas waiting for you. How are you, Mr. Hicks? [_Listens. _] I'm not anxiousto sell--no. I prefer to carry out my dear old uncle's wishes. [PETER_eyes him--a faint smile on his lips. _] If I got my price? Well . .. Ofcourse in that case . .. I might be tempted. To-morrow? No, I can't see youto-morrow. I'm going to be married to-morrow, and leave at once for NewYork. Thank you. [_Listens. _] To-night? Very well, but I don't want itknown. I'll sell, but it must be for more than the price my uncle refused. Make it ten thousand more and it's done. [_Listens. _] You'll cometo-night?. .. Yes, yes. .. . [_Listens at the 'phone. _] The dear old man toldyou his plans never failed, eh? God rest his soul! [_Laughingindulgently. _] Ha! Ha! Ha!

PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha!

FREDERIK. [_Echoing_ HICKS' _words. _] What would he say if he knew? Whatcould he say? Everything must change. 

_A far-away rumble of thunder is heard--the lightning flickers at thewindow and a flash is seen on the telephone which tinkles and responds asthough from the electric shock. Exclaiming "Ugh, "_ FREDERIK _drops thereceiver--which hangs down. _

PETER. [_The storm passes as he speaks into the receiver without touchingthe telephone. _] Good-evening, my friend. We shall soon meet--face toface. You won't be able to carry this matter through. .. . [_Looking intospace as though he could see the future. _] You're not well and you'regoing out to supper to-night; . .. You will eat something that will causeyou to pass over. .. . I shall see you to-morrow. .. . A happy crossing!

FREDERIK. [_Picks up the receiver. _] Hello?. .. You don't feel well, yousay? [_Then echoing the purport of_ HICKS' _answer. _] I see. .. . Yourlawyer can attend to everything to-night without you. Very well. It'sentirely a question of money, Mr. Hicks. Send your lawyer to the GrimmManor Hotel. I'll arrange at once for a room. Good-bye. [_Hangs up thereceiver. _] That's off my mind. [_He lights a fresh cigarette--his faceexpressing the satisfaction he feels in the prospect of a perfectly idlefuture. _ PETER _looks at him as though to say: "And that's the boy whom Iloved and trusted!"_ FREDERIK _gets his hat, throws his coat over his arm, and hastens out. _

PETER. [_Turns and faces the door leading into the next room, as though hecould feel the presence of some one waiting there. _] Yes . .. I am stillin the house. Come in . .. Come in . .. [_He repeats the signal of the firstact. _] Ou--oo. [_The door opens slowly--and_ CATHERINE _enters as thoughat_ PETER'S _call. She looks about her, not understanding. He holds outhis arms to her. _ CATHERINE _walks slowly towards him. He takes her in hisarms, but she does not respond. She does not know that she is beingheld. _] There! There!. .. Don't worry. .. . It's all right. .. . We'll arrangethings very differently. I've come back to change all my plans. [_Shemoves away a step--just out of his embrace. He tries to call her back. _]Katie! . .. Can't I make my presence known to _you_? Katie! Can't my lovefor you outlive _me_? Isn't it here in the home?. .. Don't cry. [_She movesabout the room in thought. As_ PETER _watches her--she pauses near hisdesk. _

CATHERINE. [_Suddenly. _] Crying doesn't help matters. 

PETER. She hears me. She doesn't know it, but she hears me. She's cheeringup. [_She inhales the flowers--a half smile on her lips. _] That's right, you haven't smiled before since I died. [_Suddenly giving way to therealization of her loss_, CATHERINE _sighs. _

PETER. [_Correcting himself. _] I--I mean--since I learned that there was ahappier place than the world I left. .. . I'm a trifle confused. I've nothad time to adjust myself to these new conditions. [CATHERINE _smilessadly--goes up to the window, and, leaning against the pane, looks outinto the night. _ PETER _continues comfortingly. _] The dead have neverreally died, you know. We couldn't die if we tried. We're all aboutyou. .. . Look at the gardens: they've died, haven't they? But there theyare all the better for it. Death is the greatest thing in the world. It'sreally a--Ha!--delightful experience. What is it, after all? A nap fromwhich we waken rested, refreshened . .. A sleep from which we spring uplike children tumbling out of bed--ready to frolic through another world. I was an old man a few days ago; now I'm a boy. I feel much younger thanyou--much younger. [_A conflict is going on in_ CATHERINE'S _mind. Shewalks to the chair by the fireplace and sits--her back to the audience. He approaches her and lays a tender hand on her shoulder. _] I know whatyou're thinking. .. . Katie, I want you to break that very foolish promise Iasked you to make. You're almost tempted to. Break it! Break it at once;then--[_Glancing smilingly towards the door through which he came--asthough he wished to leave--like a child longing to go back to play. _] thenI could--take the journey back in peace. .. . I can't go until you do--and I. .. I long to go. .. . Isn't my message any clearer to you? [_Reading hermind. _] You have a feeling . .. An impression of what I'm saying; but thewords . .. The words are not clear. .. . Mm . .. Let me see. .. . If you can'tunderstand me--there's the Doctor, he'll know how to get the message--he'll find the way. .. . Then I can hurry back . .. Home. .. . 

CATHERINE. [_Helplessly--changing her position like a tired child. _] Oh, I'm so alone. 

PETER. [_Cheerily. _] Not alone at all--not at all. I shall drop in veryoften . .. And then, there's your mother. [_Suddenly remembering. _] Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten. I have a message for you, Katie. .. . [_Heseats himself in a chair which is almost in front of her. _] I've met yourmother. [_She sits in a reverie. _ PETER _continues with the air of areturned traveller relating his experiences. _] She heard that I hadcrossed over and there she was--waiting for me. You're thinking of it, aren't you? Wondering if we met. .. . Yes, that was the first interestingexperience. She knew me at once. "You were Peter Grimm, " she said, "beforeyou knew better"--that's what _they_ call leaving _this_ world--"_to knowbetter_. " You call it "dying. " [_Confidentially. _] She's been here often, it seems, watching over you. I told her how much I loved you and said thatyou had a happy home. I spoke of your future--of my plans for you andFrederik. "Peter Grimm, " she said, "you've over-looked the most importantthing in the world--love. You haven't given her _her right_ to the choiceof her lover--_her right_!" Then it came over me that I'd made a terriblemistake . .. And at that minute, you called to me. [_Impressively. _] In thedarkness surrounding all I had left behind, there came a light . .. Aglimmer where you stood . .. A clear call in the night. .. . It seemed asthough I had not been away one second . .. But in that second, you hadsuffered. .. . Now I am back to show you the way. .. . I am here to put myhand on your dear head and give you your mother's blessing; to say shewill be with you in spirit until she holds you in her arms--you and yourloved husband--[CATHERINE _turns in her chair and looks towards the doorof the room in which_ JAMES _is working. _ PETER _catches the thought. _]--yes, James, it's you. .. . And the message ended in this kiss. [_Prints akiss on her cheek. _] Can't you think I'm with you, dear child? Can't you_think_ I'm trying to help you? Can't you even hope? Oh, come, at leasthope! Anybody can hope. 

CATHERINE _rises with an entire change of manner--takes a bright redblossom from the vase on_ PETER'S _desk--then deliberately walks to thedoor of the room in which_ JAMES _is working. _ PETER _follows her actionhopefully. She does not tap on the door, however, but turns and sits atthe piano--in thought--not facing the piano. She puts_ PETER'S _flowersagainst her face. Then, laying the flowers on the piano, sings softlythree or four bars of the song she sang in the first act--and stopsabruptly. _

CATHERINE. [_To herself. _] That I should sit here singing--at a time likethis!

PETER. Sing! Sing! Why not? Lift up your voice like a bird! Your old uncledoesn't sleep out there in the dust. That's only the dream. He's here--here--alive. All his age gone and youth glowing in his heart. If I couldonly tell you what lies before you--before us all! If people even_suspected_ what the next life really is, they wouldn't waste time here--Ican tell you _that_. They'd do dreadful things to get away from thisexistence--make for the nearest pond or--[_Pausing abruptly. _] Ah, herecomes someone who'll know all about it! [_The_ DOCTOR _comes from_WILLIAM'S _room. _ PETER _greets him in a cordial but casual way, as thoughhe had parted from him only an hour before. _] Well, Andrew, I apologize. [_Bowing obsequiously. _] You were right. I apologize. 

CATHERINE. How is he, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. William is better. Dropped off to sleep again. Can't quiteunderstand him. 

PETER. I apologize. I said that if I could come back, I would; and here Iam--apologizing. Andrew! Andrew! [_Trying to attract_ DR. MACPHERSON'S_attention. _] I have a message, but I can't get it across. This is yourchance. I want _you_ to take it. I don't wish Catherine to marry Frederik. 

DR. MACPHERSON. He's somewhat feverish yet. 

PETER. Can't _you_ understand one word?

DR. MACPHERSON. It's a puzzling case. .. . 

PETER. What? Mine?

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Getting a pad from his pocket--writing out aprescription with his fountain pen. _] I'll leave this prescription at thedruggist's--

PETER. I'm quite shut out. .. . They've closed the door and turned the keyon me. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Suddenly noticing that_ CATHERINE _seems morecheerful. _] What's happened? I left you in tears and here you are--allsmiles. 

CATHERINE. Yes, I--I am happier--for some reason. .. . For the last fewminutes I--I've had such a strange feeling. 

DR. MACPHERSON. That's odd: so have I! Been as restless as a hungry mouse. Something seemed to draw me down here--can't explain it. 

PETER. I'm beginning to be felt in this house. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Catherine, I have the firm conviction that, in a veryshort time, I shall hear from Peter. [_Sitting at the table. _

PETER. I hope so. It's high time now. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What I want is some positive proof; some absolute test;some--er--[_Thinks. _

CATHERINE _has seated herself at the table. --Unconsciously they bothoccupy the same seats as in the first act. _

PETER. The trouble is with other people, not with us. You want us to giveall sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while--verypoorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter--bless his heart! [_His elbow on the tableas though he had been thinking over the matter. _ CATHERINE _sits quietlylistening. _] If he kept that compact with me, and came back, --do you knowwhat I'd ask him first? If our work goes on. 

PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerablysince I crossed over. 

CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. The question _every man wants the answer to_: what's tobecome of me--_me_--_my work_? Am I going to be a bone setter in the nextlife and he a tulip man?. .. I wonder. 

PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody--Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit toldme that sometimes our work _does_ go on; but he was an awful liar--youknew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius issimply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows hisbusiness. Now then: [_Confidentially preparing to open an argument--sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act. _] it stands toreason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with afellow who knew his business before he was born?

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Unconsciously grasping the thought. _] I believe it ispossible to have more than one chance at our work. 

PETER. There . .. You caught that. .. . Why can't you take my message toCatherine?

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising to get his shawl--gruffly. _] Thought over what Itold you concerning this marriage? Not too late to back out. 

PETER. He's beginning to take the message. 

CATHERINE. Everything's arranged: I shall be married as Uncle Peterwished. I sha'n't change my mind. 

DR. MACPHERSON. H'm! [_Picks up his shawl. _

PETER. [_Trying to detain the_ DOCTOR--_tugging at his shawl withoutseeming to pull it. _] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can alwayschange her mind--while there's life. Don't give up! [_The_ DOCTOR _turns, facing_ PETER, _looking directly at him as he puts his hand in his coatpocket. _] You heard that, eh?. .. Didn't you? Yes? Did it cross over?. .. What?. .. It did?. .. You're looking me in the face, Andrew; can you see me?[_The_ DOCTOR _takes a pencil out of his pocket, writes a prescription, throws his shawl over his shoulder--turning his back towards_ PETER _andfacing_ CATHERINE. ] Tc! Tc! Tc!

DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night. 

CATHERINE. Good-night. [CATHERINE _goes quietly to the fireplace, kneelingdown, mends the fire, and remains there sitting on an ottoman. _

PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR. ] If I could only make some sign--tostart you thinking; but I can't depend upon _you_, I see that. .. . [_Thenchanging--as though he had an idea. _] Ah, yes! There _is_ another way. Nowto work. [_With renewed activity, he taps in the direction of the officedoor, although he himself stands three feet away from it. The door openspromptly and_ JAMES _appears on the threshold--pen in hand--as thoughsomething had made him rise suddenly from his desk. _ CATHERINE, _stillseated, does not see_ JAMES, _who stands looking at her--remembering thatshe is to be married on the following day. _ PETER _tempts_ JAMES. ] Yes, she _is_ pretty, James . .. Young and lovely. .. . Look!. .. There are kissestangled in her hair where it curls . .. Hundreds of them. .. . Are you goingto let her go? Her lips are red with the red of youth. Every smile is aninvocation to life. Who could resist her smiles? Can you, James? No, youwill not let her go. And her hands, James. .. . Look! Hands made to claspand cling to yours. Imagine her little feet trudging happily about _your_home. .. . Look at her shoulders . .. Shaped for a resting-place for a littlehead. .. . You were right, James, we should ask nothing of our girls but tomarry the men they love and be happy wives and happy mothers of happychildren. You feel what I am saying. .. . You couldn't live without her, could you? No? Very well, then--[_Changing abruptly. _] Now, it's yourturn. 

JAMES _pauses a moment. There is silence. Then he comes forward a stepand_ CATHERINE, _hearing him, turns and rises. _

JAMES. [_Coldly--respectfully. _] Miss Grimm . .. 

CATHERINE. James . .. 

JAMES. I felt that you were here and wished to speak to me. I--I don'tknow why . .. 

PETER. Good for James. 

CATHERINE. [_Shaking hands with him. _] I'm very glad to see you again, James. [_When_ PETER _sees that he has brought the two young peopletogether, he stands in the background. The lovers are in the shadow, but_PETER'S _figure is marked and clear. _] Why did you go away?

JAMES. Oh--er--

CATHERINE. And without saying a word. 

JAMES. Your uncle sent me away. I told him the truth again. 

CATHERINE. Oh . .. 

JAMES. I am going in a few hours. 

CATHERINE. Where are you going? What do you intend to do?

JAMES. [_Half-heartedly. _] Father and I are going to try our lucktogether. We're going to start with a small fruit farm. It will give me achance to experiment. .. . 

CATHERINE. It will seem very strange when I come back home. .. . Uncle gone. .. And you, James. [_Her voice trembling. _

JAMES. I hope you'll be happy, Catherine. 

CATHERINE. James, Uncle died smiling at me--thinking of me . .. And justbefore he went, he gave me his mother's wedding ring and asked me to marryFrederik. I shall never forget how happy he was when I promised. That wasall he wanted. His last smile was for me . .. And there he sat--stillsmiling after he was gone . .. The smile of a man leaving the worldperfectly satisfied--at peace. It's like a hand on my heart--hurting it--when I question anything he wanted. I couldn't meet him in the hereafterif I didn't do everything he wished; I couldn't say my prayers at night; Icouldn't speak his name in them. .. . He trusted me; depended upon me; dideverything for me; so I must do this for him. .. . I wanted you to knowthis, James, because . .. 

JAMES. Why haven't you told Frederik the truth?

CATHERINE. I have. 

JAMES. That you don't love him? [CATHERINE _doesn't answer, but_ JAMES_knows. _] . .. And he's willing to take you like that?--a little girl likeyou--in _that_ way. .. . God! He's rotten all the way through. He's evenworse than I thought. Katie, I didn't mean to say a word of this to-day--not a word; but a moment since--something made me change my mind--I don'tknow what!. .. [PETER _smiles. _] I felt that I _must_ talk to you. Youlooked so young, so helpless, such a child. You've never had to think foryourself--you don't know what you're doing. You _couldn't_ live under it, Catherine. You're making the greatest mistake possible, if you marry whereyou don't love. Why should you carry out your uncle's plans? You're goingto be wretched for life to please a dead man who doesn't know it; or, ifhe does know it, regrets it bitterly. 

PETER. I agree with you now, James. 

CATHERINE. You musn't say that, James. 

JAMES. But I will say it--I will speak my mind. I don't care how fond youwere of your uncle or how much he did for you--it wasn't right to ask thisof you. It wasn't fair. The whole thing is the mistake of a _very_obstinate old man. 

CATHERINE. James!

JAMES. I loved him, too; but he _was_ an obstinate old man. Sometimes Ithink it was the Dutch blood in his veins. 

PETER. A very frank, outspoken fellow. I like to hear him talk--now. 

JAMES. Do you know why I was sent away? Why I quarrelled with your uncle?I said that I loved you . .. He asked me. .. . I didn't tell him because Ihad any hopes--I hadn't. .. . I haven't now. .. . [_Struck. _] But in spite ofwhat I'm saying . .. I don't know what makes me think that I . .. I couldtake you in my arms and you would let me . .. But I do think it. 

CATHERINE. [_Retreats, backing towards_ PETER. ] No!. .. Don't touch me, James--you mustn't! Don't!. .. Don't!

PETER _pushes her into_ JAMES' _arms, without touching her. She exclaims_"Oh, James!" _and fairly runs towards_ JAMES _as though violentlypropelled. In reality, she thinks that she is yielding to an impulse. Asshe reaches him, she exclaims_ "No, " _and turns back, but_ JAMES, _withoutstretched arms, catches her. _

JAMES. You love me. [_Draws her to him. _

CATHERINE. Don't make me say that, James. 

JAMES. I _will_ make you say it! You _do_ love me. 

CATHERINE. No matter if I do, that won't alter matters. 

JAMES. What? What?

CATHERINE. No, no, don't say any more. .. . I won't hear it. [_She standsfree of_ JAMES--_then turns and walks to the stairs. _] Good-bye, Jim. 

JAMES. Do you mean it? Are you really going to sacrifice yourself becauseof--Am I really losing you?. .. Catherine! Catherine!

CATHERINE. [_In tears--beseechingly. _] Please don't. .. . Please don't. .. . 

FREDERIK _enters. Until the entrance of_ FREDERIK, PETER _has had hope inhis face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive. _

FREDERIK. [_Throwing his hat and coat on a chair. _] I have some work todo--more of my uncle's unopened mail; then I'll join you, Hartman. Wemust--er--make haste. 

JAMES _looks at_ CATHERINE, _then at_ FREDERIK. CATHERINE _gives him animploring glance--urging him not to speak. _ FREDERIK _has gone to_ PETER'S_desk. _

JAMES. I'll come back later. [_Goes towards the hall. _

FREDERIK. Catherine, have you asked James to be present at the ceremonyto-morrow?

CATHERINE. No. 

FREDERIK. James, will you--

JAMES. I shall be leaving early in the morning. 

FREDERIK. Too bad! [_Exit_ JAMES. 

FREDERIK _lights the desk candles, takes the mail out of the drawer--openstwo letters--tears them up after barely glancing at them--then sees_CATHERINE _still standing at the foot of the stairs--her back to him. Helays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kissesher. _

CATHERINE. [_With a revulsion of feeling. _] No! No! No! [_She covers herface with her hands--trying to control herself. _] Please!. .. Not now. .. . 

FREDERIK. Why not _now_? [_Suspiciously. _] Has Hartman been talking toyou? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE _starts slowly up thestairs. _] Wait a moment, please. .. . [_As she retreats a step up thestairs, he follows her. _] Do you really imagine you--you care for thatfellow?

CATHERINE. Don't--please. 

FREDERIK. I'm sorry to insist. Of course, I knew there was a sort ofschool-girl attachment on your part; . .. That you'd known each other sincechildhood. I don't take it at all seriously. In three months, you'llforget him. I must insist, however, that you do _not_ speak to him againto-night. After to-morrow--after we are married--I'm quite sure that youwill not forget you are my wife, Catherine--my wife. 

CATHERINE. I sha'n't forget. [_She escapes into her room. _ FREDERIK _goesto his desk. _

PETER. [_Confronting_ FREDERIK. ] Now, sir, I have something to say to you, Frederik Grimm, my beloved nephew! I had to die to find you out; but Iknow you! [FREDERIK _is reading a letter. _] You sit there opening a deadman's mail--with the heart of a stone--thinking: "He's gone! he's gone!--so I'll break every promise!" But there is something you have forgotten--something that always finds us out: the law of reward and punishment. Evennow it is overtaking you. Your hour has struck. [FREDERIK _takes upanother letter and begins to read it; then, as though disturbed by apassing thought, he puts it down. As though perplexed by the condition ofhis own mind, he ponders, his eyes resting unconsciously on_ PETER. ] Yourhour has struck. 

FREDERIK. [_To himself. _] What in the world is the matter with meto-night?

PETER. Read!

FREDERIK. [_Has opened a long, narrow, blue envelope containing a letteron blue paper and a small photograph. He stares at the letter, aghast. _]My God! Here's luck. .. . Here's luck! From that girl Annamarie to my uncle. Oh, if he had read it!

PETER. [_Standing in front of_ FREDERIK _looks into space--as thoughreading the letter in the air. _] "Dear Mr. Grimm: I have not writtenbecause I can't do anything to help William, and I am ashamed. "

FREDERIK. Wh! [_As though he had read the first part to himself, now readsaloud. _] "Don't be too hard upon me. .. . I have gone hungry trying to savea few pennies for him, but I never could; and now I see that I cannot hopeto have him back. William is far better off with you. I--" [_Hesitates. _

PETER. [_Going back of the desk, standing behind_ FREDERIK'S _chair. _] Goon. .. . 

FREDERIK. "I wish that I might see him once again. Perhaps I could comeand go in the night. "

PETER. That's a terrible thing for a mother to write. 

FREDERIK. [_Who has been looking down at the letter--suddenly feeling_PETER'S _presence. _] Who's that? Who's in this room? [_Looks over hisshoulder--then glances about. _] I could have sworn somebody was lookingover my shoulder . .. Or had come in at the door . .. Or . .. [_But seeing noone--he continues. _] "I met someone from home; . .. If there is any truthin the rumour of Catherine's marriage--it mustn't be, Mr. Grimm--itmustn't be . .. Not to Frederik. For Frederik is my little boy's--"[FREDERIK _gives a furtive glance upstairs at the door of the child'sroom. Picks up the small picture which was in the envelope. _] Her picture. .. [_Turns it over--looks at the back--reads. _] "For my boy, fromAnnamarie. " [FREDERIK, _conscious-stricken for the time being, bows hishead. _

PETER. For the first time since I entered this house, you are yourself, Frederik Grimm. Once more a spark of manhood is alight in your soul. Courage! It's not too late to repent. Turn back, lad! Follow your impulse. Take the little boy in your arms. Go down on your knees and ask hismother's pardon. Turn over a fresh page, that I may leave this house inpeace. .. . 

FREDERIK. [_Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leadinginto the hall. _] Who is at the door? Curious . .. I thought I heard someoneat . .. 

PETER. I am at the door--I, Peter Grimm! Annamarie is at the door--thelittle girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchenbreaking her heart for some word. William is at the door--your own fleshand blood--nameless; Katie, sobbing her heart out--you can hear her; all--we are all at the door--every soul in this house. We are all at the doorof your conscience, Frederik. .. . Don't keep us waiting, my boy. It's veryhard to kill the love I had for you. I long to love you again--to take youback to my heart--lies and all. [FREDERIK _rises--in deep thought. _] Yes!Call her! Tell her the truth. Give her back her promise. .. . Give her backher home. .. . Close the door on a peaceful, happy, silent room and go. Think--think of that moment when you give her back her freedom! Think ofher joy, her gratitude, her affection. It's worth living for, lad. Speak!Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK _takes several steps--then turnsback to the desk. He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself, _ "Damnthe woman, " _and sinks into his chair. _] Frederik Grimm, stand up beforeme! [FREDERIK _starts to rise, but changes his mind. _] Stand up! [FREDERIK_rises--not knowing why he has risen. _ PETER _points an accusing fingerat_ FREDERIK. ] Liar to the dead! Cheat, thief, hypocrite! You sha'n't havemy little girl. You only want her for a week, a day, an hour. I refuse. Ihave come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest. .. . Ihave come back. .. . You cannot drive me from your thoughts--I am there. .. . [_Tapping his forehead, without touching it. _] I am looking over yourshoulder . .. In at the window . .. Under the door. .. . You are breathing mein the air. .. . I am looking at your heart. [_He brings his clenched fistdown on the desk in answer to_ FREDERIK'S _gesture; but, despite theseeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound. _] Hear me! You shall hearme! Hear me! [_Calling loudly. _] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobodyhear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journeybeen in vain?. .. [_For the first time fully realizing the situation. _] Oh, must we stand or fall by the mistakes we made here and the deed we did? Isthere no second chance in this world?

FREDERIK. [_With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish histhoughts. _] Psh!

MARTA _enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of smallcakes. _ PETER, _who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dogcraving attention, glances from her to the desk and from the desk back to_MARTA--_trying to tempt her to look at the torn letter. _ FREDERIK, _deepin thought, does not notice her. _ PETER _points to the desk as though tosay, "Look!" After a pause, she picks up the picture and the letter--holding them in one hand to clear a spot for the tray which she is aboutto set on the desk. _

PETER. [_Speaking in a hushed voice. _] Marta, see what you have in yourhand . .. That letter . .. There . .. Read it. .. . Run to Catherine with it. Read it from the house-tops. .. . The letter . .. Look! There you have thestory of Annamarie. .. . It is the one way to know the truth in this house--the only way. .. . There in your hand--the letter. .. . He will neverspeak. .. . The letter for Catherine. 

MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her tolook at them; however, before she can carry out her impulse, _ FREDERIK_starts up. _

FREDERIK. My God! How you startled me! [MARTA _sets down the tray. _] Oh!To be off and out of this old rat-trap. [_He wipes his forehead with hisblack-bordered handkerchief. _] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenlyhere where we are accustomed to see him. 

MARTA. A cup of coffee, sir?

FREDERIK. No, no, no. 

MARTA. [_Pathetically. _] I thought you wished to keep to your uncle'scustoms. .. . He always took it at this time. 

FREDERIK. [_Recovering. _] Yes, yes, of course. 

MARTA. . .. No word?. .. 

FREDERIK. [_Hesitates. _] What do you mean?

MARTA. No letter?

FREDERIK. Letter?. .. [_Covering the letter with his hand. _] From whom?. .. 

MARTA. From . .. At a time like this, I thought . .. I felt . .. ThatAnnamarie . .. That there should be some message. .. . Every day I expect tohear . .. 

FREDERIK. No. 

PETER _gestures to_ MARTA--_pointing to the picture and letter, nowcovered by_ FREDERIK'S _hand. _

MARTA. [_Hesitating. _] Are you certain?

FREDERIK. Quite certain. [_She curtsies and leaves the room. _ FREDERIK, _as though relieved to see her go, jumps to his feet, and, tearing theletter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burningpieces on a tray. As the flame dies out, _ FREDERIK _brushes the blackenedpaper into the waste-basket. _] There's an end to _that_!

PETER _crouches near the basket--hovering over it, his hinds claspedhelplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to abedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not withthe blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying theimpression of a phantom circus band. The door of_ WILLIAM'S _room opens, and he comes out as though to listen to the music. He wears a sleepingsuit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before_ FREDERIK _seeshim. _ FREDERIK _quickly puts aside the photograph, laying it on the desk, covering it with his hand. _

FREDERIK. [_Gruffly. _] Why aren't you in bed? If you're ill, that's theproper place for you. 

WILLIAM. I came down to hear the circus music. 

FREDERIK. Circus music?

WILLIAM. It woke me up. 

FREDERIK. The circus left town days ago. You must have been dreaming. 

WILLIAM. The band's playing now. Don't you hear it, sir? The procession'spassing. [_He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breezesweeps through the room--bellies out the curtains and causes the lustresto jingle on the mantel. Surprised. _] No. It's almost dark. There's noprocession . .. No shining horses. .. . [_Turning sadly away from thewindow. _] I wonder what made me think the--I must have been dreaming. [_Rubbing his eyes. _

FREDERIK. [_Goes to the window, closes it. The child looks at him and, inretreating from him, unconsciously backs towards_ PETER. ] Are you feelingbetter?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir, I feel better--and hungry. 

FREDERIK. Go back to bed. 

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. [FREDERIK _sits. _

PETER. Where's your mother, William?

WILLIAM. Do you know where Annamarie is?

PETER. Ah!

FREDERIK. Why do you ask me? What should I know of her?

WILLIAM. Grandmother doesn't know; Miss Catherine doesn't know; nobodyknows. 

FREDERIK. I don't know, either. [_Tears up the picture--turning so that_WILLIAM _does not see what he is doing. _ PETER, _who has been smiling at_WILLIAM, _motions him to come nearer. _ WILLIAM, _feeling_ PETER'S_presence, looks round the room. _

WILLIAM. Mr. Frederik, where's _old_ Mr. Grimm?

FREDERIK. Dead. 

WILLIAM. Are you sure he's dead? 'Cause--[_Puzzled--unable to explainhimself, he hesitates. _

FREDERIK. [_Annoyed. _. ] You'd better go to bed. 

WILLIAM. [_Pointing to a glass of water on a tray. _] Can I have a drink ofwater, please?

FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good forlittle boys with fever. 

WILLIAM. [_Going towards the stairs. _] Wish I could find a cold brook andlie in it. [_Goes slowly up the stairs. _ FREDERIK _would destroy thepieces of the picture; but_ PETER _faces him as though forbidding him totouch it, and, for the first time, _ FREDERIK _imagines he sees theapparition of his uncle. _

FREDERIK. [_In a very low voice--almost inaudibly. _] My God! I thought Isaw . .. [_Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of_ PETER _isstill before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweatfrom his forehead. _ WILLIAM, _hearing the door close, comes down stairsand, running to the table at back, drinks a glass of water. _

WILLIAM. Um! That's good!

PETER. William! [WILLIAM _doesn't see_ PETER _yet, but he feels hisinfluence. _

WILLIAM. Wish it _had_ been the circus music. 

PETER. You shall hear it all again. [_Gestures towards the plate of cakeson the tray. _] Come, William, here's something very nice. 

WILLIAM. [_Seeing the cakes. _] Um! Cakes! [_He steals to the tray, lookingover his shoulder in fear of being caught. _

PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to thecakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me . .. A veryimportant message?. .. 

_The circus music is heard. _ WILLIAM _sits at the tray and_ PETER _seatshimself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours. _ WILLIAM, _being unconsciously coaxed by_ PETER, _is prevailed upon to choose thebiggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards_ PETER. 

WILLIAM. [_To himself. _] Ha!. .. Think I am dreaming. [_Rubbing his littlestomach ecstatically. _] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't anycake. 

PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM _has taken another piece of cakewhich he nibbles at--now holding a piece in each hand. _] Prettysubstantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM _eats theraisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl. _] Don't hesitate, William. Sugarwon't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William--helpyourself. [WILLIAM _looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of_FREDERIK. ] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he sawme, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience--hallucination. [WILLIAM _nibbles a lump of sugar. _] Now, William, I have a message foryou. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats anotherlump of sugar. _] I see . .. I can't expect to get any assistance from a boywhile his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM _empties the cream jug andhelps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out. _] Now I'm going totell you something. [_Impressively. _] You're a very lucky boy, William; Icongratulate you. Do you know why--of all this household--you are the onlyone to help me?. .. This is the secret: in a little time--it won't belong--you're going--[_As though he were imparting the most delightfulinformation. _]--to know better! Think of _that_! Isn't the news splendid?[_But_ WILLIAM _eats on. _] Think of what most of us have to endure before_we_ know better! Why, William, you're going into the circus withoutpaying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb thehill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there aresome little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin thebattle of life. .. . Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle. .. . Like little moon moths, --they look in at the windows; they beat at thepanes; they see the lights of happy firesides--the lights of home; butthey never get in. .. . You are one of these wanderers, William. .. . And so, it is well for you that before your playing time is over--before yourman's work begins, --you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! Nocoarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world likeFrederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimmingof the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shallknow in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, . .. Tears such asKatie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith--yourinnocence, --you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!. .. "It iswell with the _child_. " [WILLIAM _lays down the cake and, clasping hishands, thinks. _ PETER _answers his thoughts. _] What? No--don't think ofit! Nonsense! You _don't_ want to grow up to be a man. Grow up to fail?Or, still worse--to succeed--to be famous? To wear a heavy laurel wreath?A wreath to be held up by tired hands that ache for one hour's freedom. No, no, you're to escape all that, William; joy is on the way to meet youwith sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM_takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims_ "Hm!" _in asatisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in hischair. _] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try tounderstand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherinethat--

WILLIAM. [_Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap. _] Take me backwith you, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Can you see me, William?

WILLIAM. No, sir; but I know. 

PETER. Come here. [WILLIAM _doesn't move. _] Here . .. Here . .. [WILLIAM_advances to the center of the room and pauses hesitatingly. _] Take myhand . .. [WILLIAM _approaches in the direction of the voice. _ PETER_takes_ WILLIAM'S _outstretched hand. _] Have you got it?

WILLIAM. No, sir. .. . 

PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ WILLIAM'S _head. _] Now?. .. Do you feel it?

WILLIAM. I feel something, yes, sir. [_Puts his hand on_ PETER'S _hand, which is still on his head. _] But where's your hand? There's nothingthere. 

PETER. But you hear me?

WILLIAM. I can't really hear you. .. . It's a dream. [_Coaxingly. _] Oh, Mr. Grimm, take me back with you. 

PETER. You're not quite ready to go with me yet, William--not until we cansee each other face to face. 

WILLIAM. Why did you come back, Mr. Grimm? Wasn't it nice where you were?

PETER. It was indeed. It was like--[_Whimsically. _]--new toys. 

WILLIAM. [_To whom the idea appeals. _] As nice as that!

PETER. Nicer. But I had to come back with this message. I want you to helpme to deliver it. [_Indicating the picture. _

WILLIAM. Where's the bosom of Abraham, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Eh?

WILLIAM. The minister says you're asleep there. 

PETER. Stuff and nonsense! I haven't been near the bosom of Abraham. 

WILLIAM. Too bad you died before you went to the circus, Mr. Grimm. But itmust be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circusfor nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone totown?"

PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Comehere, William [_He starts towards the desk. _]; would you like to seesomeone whom all little boys love--love more than anybody else in thewhole world? [PETER _is standing at the desk with his finger on the tornpieces of the picture. _

WILLIAM. Yes, the clown in the circus. .. . No . .. It isn't a clown; . .. It's our mother. .. . Yes, I want to see my mother, Annamarie. [_Unconsciously_ WILLIAM _comes to the desk and sees the torn picture--picks up a piece and looks at it. Very simply. _] Why . .. There she is!. .. That's her face. 

PETER. Ah! You recognize her. Mother's face is there, William, but it's inlittle bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her toeverybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world didshe ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them tothinking. 

WILLIAM. Yes. Let us show her to everybody. [_He sits and joins the piecesunder the guidance of_ PETER. ] Annamarie . .. Annamarie . .. 

PETER. You remember many things, William . .. Things that happened when youlived with Annamarie, don't you?

WILLIAM. I was very little. .. . 

PETER. Still, you remember. .. . 

WILLIAM. [_Evasively. _] I was afraid. .. . 

PETER. You loved her. 

WILLIAM. [_To picture. _] Oh, yes . .. Yes, I loved you. 

PETER. Now, through that miracle of love, you can remember many thingstucked away in your childish brain, --things laid away in your mind liketoys upon a shelf. Come, pick them up and dust them off and bring them outagain. It will come back. When you lived with Annamarie . .. There was you. .. And Annamarie . .. And--

WILLIAM. --and the other one. 

PETER. Ah! We're getting nearer! Who _was_ the other one?

WILLIAM. [_Gives a quick glance towards the door--then as though speakingto the picture. _] I must put you together before _he_ comes back. [_Hefits the other pieces together_--PETER _trying to guide him. Presently_WILLIAM _hums as a child will when at play, singing the tune of "UncleRat. "_] "Uncle Rat has gone to town. "

PETER _and_ WILLIAM. [_Singing together. _] "Ha! H'm!" [_At this instant_, PETER _is indicating another piece of the picture. _

WILLIAM. Her other foot. [_Then sings. _]

 "Uncle Rat has gone to town, To buy his niece a wedding gown. "

[_Adjusting a piece of the picture. _] Her hand. 

WILLIAM _and_ PETER. [_Singing. _] "Ha! H'm!"

WILLIAM. Her other hand. [_Sings_. ] "What shall the wedding breakfast be? Hard boiled eggs and--"[_Speaking_. ] Where's--[WILLIAM _pauses--looking for a piece of thepicture_. 

PETER. [_Finishing the verse_. ] "A cup of tea. " [_With a gesture as thoughknocking on the door of the adjoining room to attract_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY'S_attention_. 

WILLIAM. [_Speaks_. ] There's her hat. 

WILLIAM _and_ PETER. [_Singing_. ] "Ha! H'm!"

WILLIAM. [_Stops singing and claps his hands with boyish delight--staringat the picture_. ] Annamarie! Annamarie! You're not in bits any more--you're all put together. 

_By this time, _ PETER _is going up the stairs, and, as he stands in frontof_ CATHERINE'S _door, it opens_. PETER _passes in and_ CATHERINE _comesout_. 

CATHERINE. [_Astonished_. ] Why, William! What are you doing here?

WILLIAM. Miss Catherine! Come down! Come down! I have something to showyou. 

CATHERINE. [_Not coming down_. ] No, dear--come upstairs; there's a goodboy. You mustn't play down there. Come to bed. [_Passes into_ WILLIAM'S_room_. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Who has entered, and sees_ WILLIAM. . ] William!

WILLIAM. Look--look! [_Pointing to the picture_. ] See what old Mr. Grimmbrought back with him. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Alarmed_. ] What are you talking about, William? OldMr. Grimm is dead. 

WILLIAM. No, he isn't; . .. He's come back. .. . He has been in this room. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Absurd!

WILLIAM. I was talking to him. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. You're feverish again. I must get the Doctor. [_Comesdown to_ WILLIAM. ] And I thought you were feeling better! [_Seeing_CATHERINE, _who appears on the balcony as though wondering why_ WILLIAM_doesn't come to bed_. ] The child's mind is wandering. He imagines allsorts of things. I'll call the Doctor--

PETER. [_Who has re-entered. _] You needn't--he's coming now. Come in, Andrew. I'm giving you one more chance. 

_The_ DOCTOR _enters, wearing his skull-cap, and carrying his pipe in hishand. It is evident that he has come over in a hurry. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Surprised. _] I was just going for you. How fortunatethat you came. 

DR. MACPHERSON. I thought I'd have another peep at William. 

_By this time_, CATHERINE _has seated herself on a chair, and takes_WILLIAM _on her lap. He puts his arms round her neck. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He's quite delirious. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Doesn't look it. [_Putting his hand on_ WILLIAM'S _cheekand forehead. _] Very slight fever. What makes you think he was delirious?[_Taking_ WILLIAM'S _pulse. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Interrupting. _] He said that old Mr. Grimm was in thisroom--that he was talking to him. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Interested. _] Yes? Really? Well, possibly he is. Nothingremarkable in _that_, is there?

PETER. Well, at last!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What? Oh, of course, you believe in--

DR. MACPHERSON. In fact, I had a compact with him to return if--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. A compact? Of all the preposterous--

DR. MACPHERSON. Not at all. Dozens of cases on record--as I can show you--where these compacts have actually been kept. [_Suddenly struck--lookingat_ WILLIAM. ] I wonder if that boy's a sensitive. [_Hand on his chin. _] Iwonder . .. 

CATHERINE. [_Echoing the_ DOCTOR'S _words. _] A sensitive?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What's that?

DR. MACPHERSON. It's difficult to explain. I mean a human organism soconstituted that it can be _informed_ or _controlled_ by those who--er--have--[_With a gesture. _] crossed over. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I think I'll put the boy to bed, Doctor. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Just a moment, Mistress Batholommey. I'm here to find outwhat ails William. William, what makes you think that Mr. Grimm is in thisroom?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I wouldn't have the child encouraged in such ideas, Catherine. I--

DR. MACPHERSON. Sh! Please, please. [_Taking the boy on his knee. _] Whatmakes you think Peter Grimm is in this room?

WILLIAM. [_Hesitating. _] . .. The things he said to me. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Said to you?

CATHERINE. [_Wonderingly. _] William, . .. Are you sure he . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Said to you, eh? [WILLIAM _nods assent. _] _Old_ Mr. Grimm?[WILLIAM _nods. _] Sure of that, William?

WILLIAM. Oh. Yes, sir. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Think before you speak, my boy; what did Mr. Grimm say toyou?

WILLIAM. Lots of things . .. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Really!

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Raises his hand for silence. _] How did he look, William?

WILLIAM. I didn't see him. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Ha!

DR. MACPHERSON. You must have seen something. 

WILLIAM. I thought once I saw his hat on the peg where it used to hang. [_Looks at the peg. _] No, it's gone. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Remonstrating. _] Doctor!

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Thinking. _] I wonder if he really did--

CATHERINE. Do you think he could have seen Uncle Peter?

PETER. [_Pointing to the desk. _] William!

WILLIAM. Look! . .. [_Points to the picture. _] That's what I wanted to showyou when you were upstairs. 

CATHERINE. [_Seeing the picture. _] It's his mother--Annamarie. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. The Lord save us--his mother! I didn't know you'd heardfrom Annamarie. 

CATHERINE. We haven't. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Then how'd that picture get into the house?

PETER. Ah! I knew she'd begin! Now that she's wound up, we shall get atthe truth. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. It's a new picture. She's much changed. How ever did itfind its way here?

CATHERINE. I never saw it before. It's very strange. .. . We've all beenwaiting for news of her. Even her mother doesn't know where she is, or--could Marta have received this since I--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I'll ask her. [_Exit into dining-room. _

CATHERINE. If not, who had the picture?. .. And why weren't we _all_told?. .. Who tore it up? Did you, William? [WILLIAM _shakes his head, meaning "No. "_] Who has been at the desk? No one save Frederik . .. Frederik . .. And surely he--[_She pauses--perplexed. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Re-entering. _] No, Marta hasn't heard a word; and, only a few minutes ago, she asked Frederik if some message hadn't come, but he said "No, nothing. " I didn't tell her of the picture. 

CATHERINE. [_Looking at the picture. _] I wonder if there was any messagewith it. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I remember the day that picture came . .. The day youruncle died. .. . It was in a long blue envelope--the size of the picture. .. . I took it from the postman myself because every one was distracted andrushing about. It dropped to the floor and as I picked it up I thought Iknew the writing; but I couldn't remember whose it was. .. . It was directedto your uncle. .. . [_Looking from the desk to the waste-basket. _] There'sthe envelope [_Holding up a scrap of blue envelope. _] and paper; . .. Someone has burned it. 

CATHERINE. Annamarie wrote to my uncle . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Not understanding. _] But what could Peter have to say to_me_ concerning Annamarie? [_Making a resolution--rising. _] We're going tofind out. You may draw the curtains, Catherine, if you please. [CATHERINE_draws the curtains. The_ DOCTOR _turns the lights down and closes thedoor. A pause. _] Peter Grimm . .. 

PETER. Yes, Andrew?. .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Not hearing. _] If you have come back . .. If you are inthe room . .. And the boy speaks truly--give me some sign . .. Someindication . .. 

PETER. I can't give you a sign, Andrew. .. . I have spoken to the boy . .. The boy . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. If you cannot make your presence known to me--I know thereare great difficulties--will you try and send your message by William? Ipresume you have one--

PETER. Yes, that's right. 

DR. MACPHERSON. --or else you wouldn't have come back. 

PETER. That's just the point I wanted to make, Andrew. You understandperfectly. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_As before. _] I am waiting. .. . We are all waiting. [_Noticing that a door is a trifle ajar. _] The door's open again. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _without making a sound, closes it and sits as before. _

PETER. Sh! Listen! [_A pause. _

WILLIAM. [_In a peculiar manner--as though in a half dream--but notshutting his eyes. As though controlled by_ PETER. ] There was Annamarieand me and the other. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Very low, as though afraid to interrupt_ WILLIAM'S_train of thought. _] What other?

WILLIAM. The man . .. That came. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What man?

WILLIAM. The man that made Annamarie cry. 

CATHERINE. Who was he?

WILLIAM. I don't know . .. 

PETER. Yes, you do. Don't tell lies, William. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What man made Annamarie cry?

WILLIAM. I can't remember. .. . 

PETER. Yes, you can. .. . You're afraid. .. . 

CATHERINE. [_In a low voice. _] So you do remember the time when you livedwith Annamarie; . .. You always told me that you didn't . .. [_To_ DR. MACPHERSON. ] I must know more of this--[_Pauses abruptly. _] Think, William, who came to the house?

PETER. That's what _I_ asked you, William. 

WILLIAM. That's what _he_ asked . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Who?

WILLIAM. Mr. Grimm. 

DR. MACPHERSON. When, William?

WILLIAM. Just now . .. 

CATHERINE _and_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Together. _] Just now!

DR. MACPHERSON. H'm. .. . You both ask the same question, eh? The man thatcame to see--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Perplexed. _] It can't be possible that the child knowswhat he's talking about. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Ignoring her. _] What did you tell Mr. Grimm when heasked you?

PETER. You'd better make haste, William. Frederik is coming back. 

WILLIAM. [_Looking uneasily over his shoulder. _] I'm afraid. 

CATHERINE. Why does he always look towards that door? You're not afraidnow, William?

WILLIAM. [_Looking towards the door. _] N-no--but. .. . Please, please don'tlet Mr. Frederik come back. 'Cause then I'll be afraid again. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Ah!

PETER. William! William!

WILLIAM. [_Rising quickly. _] Yes, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. You must say that I am very unhappy. 

WILLIAM. He says he is very unhappy. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Why is he unhappy?. .. Ask him. 

WILLIAM. Why are you unhappy, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. I am thinking of Catherine's future. .. . 

WILLIAM. [_Not understanding the last word--puzzled. _] Eh?

PETER. To-morrow . .. 

WILLIAM. [_After a slight pause. _] To-morrow . .. 

PETER. Catherine's--

WILLIAM. [_Looks at_ CATHERINE--_hesitating. _] Your--[_Stops. _ CATHERINE_gives the_ DOCTOR _a quick glance--she seems to divine the message. _

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Prompting. _] Her--

CATHERINE. What, William? What of to-morrow?

PETER. She must not marry Frederik. 

WILLIAM. I mustn't say _that_. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What?

WILLIAM. What he wanted me to say. [_Points towards_ PETER. _Allinstinctively look towards the spot to which_ WILLIAM _points, but theysee no one. _

PETER. [_Speaking slowly to the boy. _] Catherine--must--not--marryFrederik Grimm. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Speak, William. No one will hurt you. 

WILLIAM. Oh, yes, _he_ will. .. . [_Looking timidly towards the door_FREDERIK _passed through. _] I don't want to tell his name--'cause . .. 'cause . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Why don't you tell the name, William?

PETER. Make haste, William, make haste. 

WILLIAM. [_Trembling. _] I'm afraid . .. I'm afraid . .. He will makeAnnamarie cry; . .. He makes me cry . .. 

CATHERINE. [_With suppressed excitement--half to herself. _] Why are youafraid of him? Was Frederik the man that came to see Annamarie?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Catherine!

CATHERINE. [_On her knees before_ WILLIAM. ] Was he? Was it Frederik Grimm?Tell me, William. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Surely you don't believe . .. 

CATHERINE. [_In a low voice. _] I've thought of a great many things to-day. .. Little things . .. Little things I'd never noticed before. .. . I'mputting them together just as he put that picture together. .. . I must knowthe truth. 

PETER. William, make haste. .. . Frederik is listening at the door. 

WILLIAM. [_Frightened. _] I won't say any more. He's there . .. At the door. .. [_He looks over his shoulder and_ CATHERINE _goes towards the door. _

DR. MACPHERSON. William, tell me. 

PETER. William!

CATHERINE _opens the door suddenly. _ FREDERIK _is standing, listening. Heis taken unawares and for a few seconds he does not move--then herecovers. _

WILLIAM. Please don't let him scold me. I'm afraid of him. [_Going towardsthe stairs--looking at_ FREDERIK. ] I was afraid of him when I lived withAnnamarie and he came to see us and made her cry. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Are you sure you remember that? Weren't you too small?

WILLIAM. No, I do remember. .. . I always did remember; only for a littlewhile I--I forgot. .. . I must go to bed. He told me to. [_Goes upstairs. _

PETER. [_Calling after_ WILLIAM. ] You're a good boy, William. [WILLIAM_goes to his room. _

CATHERINE. [_After a slight pause--simply. _] Frederik, you've heard fromAnnamarie. .. . [_Gestures towards the desk. _ FREDERIK _sees the photographand is silent. _] You've had a letter from her. You tried to destroy it. Why did you tell Marta that you'd had no message--no news? You went to seeher, too. Why did you tell me that you'd never seen her since she wentaway? Why did you lie to me? Why do you hate that child?

FREDERIK. Are you going to believe what that boy--

CATHERINE. I'm going to find out. I'm going to find out where she is, before I marry you. That child may be right or wrong; but I'm going toknow what his mother was to you. I want the truth. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Who has been in thought--now looking up. _] We've heardthe truth. We had that message from Peter Grimm himself. 

CATHERINE. Yes, it is true. I believe Uncle Peter Grimm was in this roomto-night. 

FREDERIK. [_Not surprised--glancing towards the spot where_ PETER _stoodwhen he thought he saw him. _] Oh! You, too? Did you see him, too?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Incredulously. _] Impossible!

CATHERINE. I don't care what anyone else may think--people have the rightto think for themselves; but I believe he has been here--he _is_ here. Uncle Peter, if you can hear me now, give me back my promise--or--or I'lltake it back!

PETER. [_Gently--smilingly--relieved. _] I did give it back to you, mydear; but what a time I have had getting it across!

CURTAIN. 

ACT III. 

_The third act takes place at twenty minutes to twelve on the same night. _

_The fire is out. The table on which_ PETER _took his coffee in the firstact is now being used by the_ DOCTOR _for_ WILLIAM'S _medicines, twobottles, two glasses, two teaspoons, a clinical thermometer, &c. _ WILLIAM, _who has been questioned by the_ DOCTOR, _is now asleep upstairs. _ PETER'S_hat hangs on the peg in the shadow. Although the hour is late, no one hasthought of going to bed. _ FREDERIK _is waiting at the hotel for the lawyerwhom_ HICKS _was to send to arrange for the sale of_ PETER GRIMM'S_nurseries, but he has not arrived. The_ DOCTOR, _full of his theories, isseated before the fire, writing the account of_ PETER GRIMM'S _return, forthe American Branch of the "London Society for Psychical Research. " It isnow a fine, clear night. The clouds are almost silvery and a hint of themoon is showing. _

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Reading what he has written. _] "To be forwarded to the'London Society for Psychical Research': Dr. Hyslop: Dear Sir: Thisevening at the residence of Peter--" [_Pauses and inserts "the late" andcontinues to read after inserting the words. _] "--the late Peter Grimm--the well-known horticulturist of Grimm Manor, New York, certain phenomenawere observed which would clearly indicate the return of Peter Grimm, tendays after his decease. While he was invisible to all, three people werepresent besides myself--one of these, a child of eight, who received themessage. No spelling out by signals nor automatic writing was employed, but word of mouth. " [_A rap sounds. _] Who will that be at this hour?. .. [_Looks at the clock. _] Nearly midnight. [_Opening the door. _] Yes?

A VOICE. [_Outside. _] Telegram for Frederik Grimm. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Not in. I'll sign. [_He signs and, receiving the telegram, sets it against a candle-stick on the desk and resumes his seat. Reads:_]"I made a compact with Peter Grimm, while he was in the flesh, thatwhichever went first was to return and give the other some sign; and Ipropose to give positive proof--" [_He hesitates--thinks--then repeats. _]"positive proof that he kept this compact and that I assisted in thecarrying out of his instructions. "

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Enters--evidently highly wrought up by the events ofthe evening. _] Who was that? Who knocked?

DR. MACPHERSON. Telegram. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I thought perhaps Frederik had come back. Don't youconsider William much better?

DR. MACPHERSON. Mm . .. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear, dear! The scene that took place to-night hascompletely upset me. [_The_ DOCTOR _takes up his pen and reads tohimself. _] Well, Doctor: [_She pushes forward a chair and sits at theother side of the table--facing him. _] the breaking off of the engagementis rather sudden, isn't it? We've been talking it over in the frontparlour, Mr. Batholommey and I. James has finished his work and has justjoined us. I suggest sending out a card--a neat card--saying that, owingto the bereavement in the family, the wedding has been indefinitelypostponed. Of course, it isn't exactly true. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Won't take place at all. [_Goes on reading. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Evidently not; but if the whole matter looks verystrange to me--how is it going to look to other people; especially when wehaven't any--any rational explanation--as yet? We must get out of it insome fashion. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Whose business is it?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Nobody's, of course. But Catherine's position iscertainly unusual; and the strangest part of it all is--she doesn't seemto feel her situation. She's sitting alone in the library, seeminglyplacid and happy. What I really wish to consult you about is this:shouldn't the card we're going to send out have a narrow black border?[_The_ DOCTOR _is now writing. _] Doctor, you don't appear to beinterested. You might at least answer my question. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What chance have I had to answer? You've done all thetalking. 

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising--annoyed. _] Oh, of course, all these littlematters sound trivial to you; but men like you couldn't look after theworkings of the _next_ world if other people didn't attend to _this_. Someone has to do it. 

DR. MACPHERSON. I fully appreciate the fact, Mistress Batholommey, thatother people are making it possible for me to be myself. I'll admit that;and now if I might have a few moments in peace to attend to somethingreally important--

_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has entered with his hat in his hand. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor, I've been thinking things over. I ran in fora moment to suggest that we suspend judgment until the information Williamhas volunteered can be verified. I can scarcely believe that--

DR. MACPHERSON. Ump! [_Rises and goes to the telephone on the desk. _]Four-red. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I regret that Frederik left the house withoutoffering some explanation. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_At the 'phone. _] Marget, I'm at Peter's. I mean--I'm atthe Grimms'. Send me my bag. I'll stay the night with William. Bye. [_Seats himself at the table. _

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Tell Frederik that, if he cares to consult me, Ishall be at home in my study. Good-night, Doctor. Good-night, Rose. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Hold on, Mr. Batholommey! [_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY_turns. _] I'm writing an account of all that's happened here to-night--

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Dubiously. _] Indeed!

DR. MACPHERSON. I shall verify every word of the evidence by William'smother for whom I am searching. [_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _smilesfaintly behind his hand. _] Then I shall send in my report, and not untilthen. What I wish to ask is this: would you have any objection to the nameof Mrs. Batholommey being used as a witness?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Looks perplexed. _] Well, --er--a--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Oh, no, you don't! You may flout our beliefs; butwouldn't you like to bolster up your report with "the wife of a clergymanwho was present!" It sounds so respectable and sane, doesn't it? No, sir!You cannot prop up your wild-eyed--

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Sweeping on. _]--theories against the good black of aminister's coat. _I_ think myself that you have _probably_ stumbled on thetruth about William's mother. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. _Can_ it be true? Oh, dreadful! Dreadful!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. But that child knew it all along. He's eight years oldand he was with her until five--and five's the age of memory. Everyincident of his mother's life has lingered in his little mind. Supposingyou do find her and learn that it's all true: what do you prove? Simplythat _William remembered_, and that's all there is to it. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Let us hope that there's not a word of truth in it. Don't you think, Doctor--mind, I'm not opposing your ideas as aclergyman, --I'm just echoing what _everybody else_ thinks--don't youbelieve these spiritualistic ideas, leading _away_ from the Heaven _we_were taught to believe in, tend towards irresponsibility--er--eccentricity--and--often--er--insanity? Is it healthy--that's the idea--isit healthy?

DR. MACPHERSON. Well, Batholommey, religion has frequently led to thestake, and I never heard of the Spanish Inquisition being called _healthy_for anybody taking part in it. Still, religion flourishes. But yourold-fashioned, unscientific, gilt, ginger-bread Heaven blew up ten yearsago--went out. My Heaven's just coming in. It's new. Dr. Funk and a lot ofthe clergymen are in already. You'd better get used to it, Batholommey, and get in line and into the procession. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. You'll have to convince me first, Doctor--and thatno man can do. I made up my mind at twenty-one, and my Heaven is justwhere it was then. 

DOCTOR MACPHERSON. So I see. It hasn't improved a particle. 

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Tolerantly. _] Well, well. Good-night. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _follows him in the hall. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Good-night, Henry; I'll be home to-morrow. You'll beglad to see me, dear, won't you?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. My church mouse! [_He pats her cheek, kisses hergood-night and goes. _

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Who has gone to the door of her room--giving_ DR. MACPHERSON _a parting shot. _] Write as much as you like, Doctor; words arebut air. We didn't see Peter Grimm and you know and I know and everybodyknows that _seeing_ is believing. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Looking up. _] Damn everybody! It's everybody's ignorancethat has set the world back a thousand years. Where was I before you--Oh, yes. [_Reads as_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room. _] "I assisted in thecarrying out of his instructions. " [FREDERIK GRIMM _enters. _

FREDERIK. Anybody in this house come to their senses yet?

DR. MACPHERSON. I think so, my boy. I think several in this house havecome to their senses. Catherine has, for one. I'm very glad to see youback, Frederik. I have a few questions to put to you. 

FREDERIK. Why don't you have more light? It's half dark in this room. [_Hepicks up the lamp from the_ DOCTOR'S _table and holds it so that he canlook searchingly in the direction of the desk to see if_ PETER'S_apparition is still there. His eye is suddenly riveted on the telegramresting against the candlestick on the desk. _] Is that telegram for me?

DR. MACPHERSON. Yes. 

FREDERIK. Oh. .. . It may explain perhaps why I've been kept waiting at thehotel. .. . [_Tries to go to the desk but cannot muster up courage. _] I hadan appointment to meet a man who wanted to buy the gardens. I may as welltell you, I'm thinking of selling out root and branch. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Amazed. _] Selling out? Peter Grimm's gardens? So this isthe end of Peter's great work?

FREDERIK. You'll think it strange, Doctor; but I--I simply can't make upmy mind to go near that old desk of my uncle's. .. . I have a perfect terrorof the thing! Would you mind handing me that telegram? [_The_ DOCTOR_looks at him with scarcely veiled contempt, and hands him the telegram. After a glance at the contents, _ FREDERIK _gives vent to a long-drawnbreath. _] Billy Hicks--the man I was to sell to--is dead. .. . [_Tosses thetelegram across the table towards_ DR. MACPHERSON, _who does not take it. It lies on the table. _] I knew it this afternoon! I knew he would die . .. But I wouldn't let myself believe it. Someone told it to me . .. Whisperedit to me. .. . Doctor, as sure as you live--somebody else is doing mythinking for me in this house. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Studying_ FREDERIK. ] What makes you say that?

FREDERIK. To-night--in this room, I thought I saw my uncle . .. [_Pointingtowards the desk. _] there. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Eh?. .. 

FREDERIK. And just before I--I saw him--I--I had the . .. The strangestimpulse to go to the foot of the stairs and call Kitty--give her thehouse--and run--run--get out of it. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Oh, a good impulse, I see! Very unusual, I should say. 

FREDERIK. I thought he gave me a terrible look--a terrible look. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Your uncle?

FREDERIK. Yes. My God! I won't forget that look! And as I started out ofthe room--he blotted out. .. . I mean--I thought I saw him blot out; . .. Then I left the photograph on the desk and--

DR. MACPHERSON. That's how William came by it. [_Jots down a couple ofnotes. _] Did you ever have this impulse before--to give up Catherine--tolet her have the cottage?

FREDERIK. Not much, I hadn't. Certainly not. I told you someone else wasthinking for _me_. I don't want to give her up. It's folly! I've alwaysbeen fond of her. But if she has turned against me, I'm not going to sithere and cry about it. I shall be up and off. [_Rising. _] But I'll tellyou one thing: from this time, I propose to think for myself. I've taken aroom at the hotel and a few things for the night. I've done with thishouse. I'd like to sell it along with the gardens, and let a stranger razeit to the ground; but--[_Thinks as he looks towards the desk. _] when Iwalk out of here to-night--it's hers--she can have it. . .. I wouldn'tsleep here. .. . I give her the home because . .. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Because you don't believe anything; but you want to be onthe safe side in case he--[_Gesturing to desk. _] was there. 

FREDERIK. [_Puzzled--awed--his voice almost dropping to a whisper. _] Howdo you account for it, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. It might have been an hallucination or perhaps you did seehim, though it could have been inflammation of conscience, Frederik: whendid you last see Annamarie?

FREDERIK. [_Angrily. _] Haven't I told you already that I refuse to answerany questions as to my--

DR. MACPHERSON. I think it only fair to tell you that it won't make aparticle of difference whether you answer me or not. I have someone on thetrack now--working from an old address; I've called in the detectives andI'll find her, you may be sure of that. As long as I'm going to know it, Imay as well hear your side of it, too. When did you last see Annamarie?

FREDERIK. [_Sits--answers dully, mechanically, after a pause. _] Aboutthree years ago. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Never since?

FREDERIK. No. 

DR. MACPHERSON. What occurred the last time you saw her?

FREDERIK. [_Quietly, as before. _] What _always_ occurs when a young manrealizes that he has his life before him, must be respected--looked up to, settle down, think of his future and forget a silly girl?

DR. MACPHERSON. A scene took place, eh? Was William present?

FREDERIK. Yes. She held him in her arms. 

DR. MACPHERSON. And then?

FREDERIK. I left the house. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Then it's all true. [FREDERIK _is silent. _] What are yougoing to do for William?

FREDERIK. Nothing. I'm a rich man now--and if I recognize him--he'll be atme till the day he dies. His mother's gone to the dogs and under herinfluence, the boy--

DR. MACPHERSON. Be silent, you damned young scoundrel. Oh! What an act ofcharity if the good Lord took William, and I say it with all my heart. Outof all you have--not a crumb for--

FREDERIK. I want you to know I've sweat for that money, and I'm going tokeep it!

DR. MACPHERSON. _You've_ sweat for--

FREDERIK. [_Showing feeling. _]--Yes! How do you think I got the money? Iwent to jail for it--jail, jail. Every day I've been in this house hasbeen spent in prison. I've been doing time. Do you think it didn't get onmy nerves? I've gone to bed at nine o'clock and thought of what I wasmissing in New York. I've got up at cock-crow to be in time for grace atthe breakfast table. I took charge of a class in Sabbath-school, and Ihanded out the infernal cornucopias at the church Christmas tree, while heplayed Santa Claus. What more can a fellow do to earn his money? Don't youcall that sweating? No, sir; I've danced like a damned hand-organ monkeyfor the pennies he left me, and I had to grin and touch my hat and makebelieve I liked it. Now I'm going to spend every cent for my own personalpleasure. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Will rich men never learn wisdom!

FREDERIK. [_Rising_. ] No, they won't! But in every fourth generation therecomes along a _wise_ fellow--a spender who knows how to distribute themoney others have hoarded: I'm the spender. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Shame upon you and your like! Your breed should beexterminated. 

FREDERIK. [_Taking a little packet of letters from the desk_. ] Oh, no, we're quite as necessary as you are. And now--I shall answer no morequestions. I'm done. Good-night, Doctor. 

DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night and good-bye. [_With a look of disgust, he hasgone to the table, held a medicine bottle to the light to look at thelabel and poured a spoonful into a wine-glass filled with water. As_FREDERIK _leaves the house, the_ DOCTOR _taps on a door and calls_. ]Catherine! [CATHERINE _enters, and shows by the glance she directs at thefront door that she knows_ FREDERIK _has been in the room and has justleft the house_. ] Burn up your wedding dress. We've made no mistake. I cantell you _that_! [_Goes up the stairs to_ WILLIAM'S _room, taking the lampwith him_. JAMES _has entered, and, taking_ CATHERINE'S _hand, holds itfor a moment_. 

JAMES. Good-night, Catherine. [_She turns and lays her hand on hisshoulder_. 

CATHERINE. I wonder, James, if _he_ can see us now. 

JAMES. That's the big mystery!. .. Who can tell? But any man who works withflowers and things that grow--knows there is no such thing as death--there's nothing but life--life and always life. I'll be back in themorning. .. . Won't you . .. See me to the door?

CATHERINE. Yes . .. Yes. .. . [_They go up together, _ CATHERINE _carrying acandle into the dark vestibule. The moment they disappear, a lamp standingon the piano goes out as though the draught from the door or an unseenhand had extinguished it. It is now quite dark outside, and the moon ishidden for a moment. At the same time, a light, seemingly coming fromnowhere, reveals_ PETER GRIMM _standing in the room at the door--as thoughhe had been there when the young people passed out. He is smiling andhappy. The moon is not seen, but the light of it (as though it had comeout from behind a cloud) now reveals the old windmill. From outside thedoor the voices of_ JAMES _and_ CATHERINE _are heard as they both say:_]Good-night. 

JAMES. Catherine, . .. I won't go without it. .. . 

PETER. [_Knowing that_ JAMES, _is demanding a kiss. _] Aha! [_Rubs hishands in satisfaction--then listens--and after a second pause exclaims, with an upraised finger, as though he were hearing the kiss. _] Ah! Now Ican go. .. . [_He walks to the peg on which his hat hangs, and takes itdown. His work is done. _ CATHERINE _re-enters, darting into the hall ingirlish confusion. _

JAMES' HAPPY VOICE. [_Outside. _] Good-night!

CATHERINE. [_Calling to him through the crack in the door. _] Good-night![_She closes the door, turns the key and draws the heavy bolt--then leansagainst the door, candle-stick in hand--the wind has blown out thecandle. _] Oh, I'm so happy! I'm so happy!

PETER. Then good-night to you, my darling: love cannot say good-bye. [_Shegoes to_ PETER'S _chair, and, sitting, thinks it all over--her handsclasped in her lap--her face radiant with happiness. _] Here in yourchildhood's home I leave you. Here in the years to come, the way liesclear before you. [_His arm upraised. _] "_Lust in Rust_"--Pleasure andPeace go with you. [CATHERINE _looks towards the door--remembering_ JAMES'_kiss--half smiling. _] [_Humorously. _] Y--es; I saw you. I heard . .. Iknow. .. . Here on some sunny, blossoming day when, as a wife, you look outupon my gardens--every flower and tree and shrub shall bloom enchanted toyour eyes. .. . All that happens--happens again. And if, at first, a littleknock of poverty taps at the door, and James finds the road hard andsteep--what is money?--a thing, --a good thing to have, --but still a thing. .. And happiness will come without it. And when, as a mother, you shallsee my plantings with new eyes, my Catherine, --when you explain each leafand bud to your little people--you will remember the time when _we_ walkedtogether through the leafy lanes and I taught you--even as you teachthem--you little thing!. .. So, I shall linger in your heart. And some day, should your children wander far away and my gardens blossom for a strangerwho may take my name from off the gates, --what _is_ my name? Already itgrows faint to my ears. [_Lightly. _] Yes, yes, yes, let others take mywork. .. . Why should _we_ care? All that happens, happens again. [_Sherests her elbow on the chair, half hides her face in her hand. _] And neverforget this: I shall be waiting for you--I shall know all your life. Ishall adore your children and be their grandfather just as though I werehere; I shall find it hard not to laugh at them when they are bad, and Ishall worship them when they are good--and I don't want them too good. .. . Frederik was good. .. . I shall be everywhere about you . .. In the stockingsat Christmas, in a big, busy, teeming world of shadows just outside yourthreshold, or whispering in the still noises of the night. .. . And oh! asthe years pass, [_Standing over her chair. _] you cannot imagine what prideI shall take in your comfortable middle life--the very _best_ age, Ithink--when you two shall look out on your possessions arm in arm--andtake your well-earned comfort and ease. How I shall love to see you lookfondly at each other as you say: "Be happy, Jim--you've worked hard forthis;" or James says: "Take your comfort, little mother, let them all waitupon _you--you_ waited upon _them_. Lean back in your carriage--you'veearned it!" And towards the end--[_Sitting on a chair by her side andlooking into her face. _] after all the luxuries and vanities andpossessions cease to be so important--people return to very simple things, dear. The evening of life comes bearing its own lamp. Then, perhaps, as alittle old grandmother, a little old child whose bed-time is drawing near, I shall see you happy to sit out in the sunlight of another day; askingnothing more of life than the few hours to be spent with those youlove, . .. Telling your grandchildren, at your knees, how much brighter theflowers blossomed when _you_ were young. Ha! Ha! Ha! All that happens, happens again. .. . And when, one glad day, glorified, radiant, young oncemore, the mother and I shall take you in our arms, --oh! what a reunion![_Inspired. _] The flight of love--to love. .. . And now . .. [_He bends overher and caresses her hand. _] good-night. [CATHERINE _rises and, going tothe desk, buries her face in the bunch of flowers placed there in memoryof_ PETER. 

CATHERINE. Dear Uncle Peter. .. . 

MARTA _enters--pausing to hear if all is quiet in_ WILLIAM'S _room_. CATHERINE, _lifting her face, sees_ MARTA _and rapturously hugs her, to_MARTA'S _amazement--then goes up the stairs_. 

PETER. [_Whose eyes never leave_ CATHERINE. ] "_Lust in Rust_!" Pleasureand Peace! Amen! [CATHERINE _passes into her room, the music dying away asher door closes_. MARTA, _still wondering, goes to the clock and windsit_. ] Poor Marta! Every time she thinks of me, she winds my clock. We'renot quite forgotten. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Re-appears, carrying_ WILLIAM, _now wrapped up in anold-fashioned Dutch patchwork quilt. The_ DOCTOR _has a lamp in his freehand_. ] So you want to go downstairs, eh? Very good! How do you feel, laddie?

WILLIAM. New all over. 

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Placing the lamp on the little table right, and laying_WILLIAM _on the couch_. ] Now I'll get you the glass of cold water. [_Goesinto the dining-room, leaving the door open_. 

PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR. ] Good-night, Andrew. I'm afraid theworld will have to wait a little longer for the _big_ guesser. Drop inoften. I shall be glad to see you here. 

WILLIAM. [_Quickly rising on the couch, looks towards the peg on which_PETER GRIMM'S _hat hung. Calling_. ] Mr. Grimm! Where are you? I knew thatyou were down here. [_Seeing_ PETER. ] Oh, [_Raising himself to his kneeson the sofa_. ] I see you _now_!

PETER. Yes? [_There is an impressive pause and silence as they face eachother_. 

WILLIAM. Oh, you've got your hat;. .. It's off the peg. .. . You're going. Need you go right away--Mr. Grimm? Can't you wait a little while?

PETER. I'll wait for you, William. 

WILLIAM. May I go with you? Thank you. I couldn't find the way withoutyou. 

PETER. Yes, you could. It's the surest way in this world. But I'll wait, --don't worry. 

WILLIAM. I sha'n't. [_Coaxingly_. ] Don't be in a hurry . .. I want--[_Liesdown happily_. ] to take a nap first. .. . I'm sleepy. [_He pulls thecovering up and sleeps_. 

PETER. I wish you the pleasantest dream a little boy can have in _this_world. 

_Instantly, as though the room were peopled with faint images of_WILLIAM'S _dream, the phantom circus music is heard, with its elfin horns;and, through the music, voices call "Hai! Hai!" The sound of the crackingof a whip is heard, and the blare of a clown's ten-cent tin horn. Thephantom voice of the_ CLOWN _(very faint) calls:_

CLOWN'S VOICE. Billy Miller's big show and monster circus is in town thisafternoon! Don't forget the date! Only one ring--no confusion. Circus daycomes but once a year, little sir. Come early and see the wild animals andhear the lion roar-r-r! Mind, I shall expect _you!_ Wonderful troupe oftrained mice in the side-show. 

_During the above, the deeper voice of a_ "HAWKER"--_muffled and far off--cries:_

HAWKER'S VOICE. Peanuts, pop-corn, lemonade--ice cold lemo--lemo--lemonade! Circus day comes but once a year. 

_Breaking in through the music, and the voices of the_ CLOWN _and_ HAWKER, _the gruff voice of a_ "BARKER" _is heard calling. _

BARKER'S VOICE. Walk in and see the midgets and the giant! Only tencents--one dime!

_As these voices die away, the_ CLOWN, _whose voice indicates that he isnow perched on the head of the couch, sings:_

CLOWN'S VOICE. "Uncle Rat has gone to town, Ha! H'm! Uncle Rat has gone to town To buy his niece"--

_His voice ends abruptly--the music stops. Everything is over. There issilence. Then three clear knocks sound on the door. _

PETER. Come in. .. . [_The door opens. No one is there--but a faint path ofphosphorous light is seen. _] Oh, friends! Troops of you! [_As though herecognizes the unseen guests. _] I've been gone so long that you came forme, eh? I'm quite ready to go back. I'm just waiting for a happy littlefellow who's going back with us. .. . We'll follow. Do you all go ahead--lead the way. [_He looks at_ WILLIAM, _holds out his arms, and_ WILLIAM_jumps up and runs into them. _] Well, William! You _know better_ now. Come! [_Picking up_ WILLIAM. ] Happy, eh? [WILLIAM _nods, his facebeaming. _

WILLIAM. Oh, yes!

PETER. Let's be off, then. [_As they turn towards the door. _

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Re-entering, goes to the couch with the water, andsuddenly, setting down the glass, exclaims in a hushed voice:_] My God!He's dead! [_He half raises up a boy that appears to be_ WILLIAM. _Thelight from the lamp on the table falls on the dead face of the child. Thenthe_ DOCTOR _gently lays the boy down again on the couch, and sitspondering over the mystery of death. _

PETER. [_To the_ DOCTOR. ] Oh, no! There never was so fair a prospect for_life_!

WILLIAM. [_In_ PETER'S _arms. _] I _am_ happy!

_Outside a hazy moonlight shimmers. A few stars twinkle in the far-awaysky; and the low moon is seen back of the old windmill. _

PETER. [_To_ WILLIAM. ] If the rest of them only knew what they're missing, eh?

WILLIAM. [_Begins to sing, joyously. _] "Uncle Rat has gone to town. "

PETER _dances up a few steps towards the door, singing with_ WILLIAM. 

PETER _and_ WILLIAM. "Ha! H'm! Uncle Rat has gone to town To buy his niece a wedding gown. Ha! H'm!"

PETER. [_Gives one last fond look towards_ CATHERINE'S _room. To_WILLIAM. ] We're off! [_Putting the boy over his shoulder, they singtogether, as they go up, the phantom circus music accompanying them. _] "What shall the wedding breakfast be? Ha! H'm!"

PETER. [_Alone. _] "What shall the wedding breakfast be? Hard boiled eggs and a cup of tea. "

WILLIAM _and_ PETER. "Ha! H'm!"

PETER GRIMM _has danced off with the child through the faint path oflight. As he goes, the wind or an unseen hand closes the door after them. There is a moment's pause until their voices are no longer heard--then thecurtain slowly descends. The air of the song is taken up by an unseenorchestra and continues as the audience passes out. _

CURTAIN.