class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 47]"/> during the reading, had gone from the room to get some papers he had left at the office. But Kathrien still lingered, restoring the Bible to its wonted place.

"Oh, by the way, Oom Peter," said Frederik, lowering his voice so as not to reach the girl's ears, "I want to speak to you about a private matter when you can spare me a moment. When I come back from the packing house will be time enough. I just want to give a glance to those last shipments."

"All right, lad," agreed Grimm. "Any time."

He looked fondly after the dapper figure.

"Isn't he a splendid, handsome, hustling young chap, Katje?" he demanded. "If only his mother had lived to see him now, wouldn't she have been proud of him? And what a complete little family we three make!"

"We three?" hesitated the girl.

"Surely. That's all there are of us—at present,—isn't it? I don't think I have made a miscount."

"You don't count in James!"

"James?" he queried sharply. "Why should I?"

"Why shouldn't you?" she retorted eagerly. "Oom Peter, if you don't mind my saying so, I think you're just a little unfair to James. He used to have dinner with us nearly every day. Can't you make him a little more at home—more like one of the family?"

"Why, you good, unselfish little girl!" applauded Grimm. "You think of everybody. James is——"

Hartmann came in with several newly typed letters to be signed, and Grimm turned to meet him with something akin to cordiality.

"James," said he, "will you have dinner with us to-day?"

"Why, yes," answered Hartmann, in pleased surprise. "Certainly. Thank you very much. Will you glance over these and sign them?" he added, wondering at the grateful smile Kathrien flashed at Peter as she passed into the dining-room and left the two men alone together.

Grimm, too, wondered a little at the warmth of the girl's smile.

"She has bloomed out lately like a rose," he mused as he looked over the letters the secretary proffered him.

"Yes, sir!" involuntarily agreed Hartmann.

"So you've noticed it, too?"

"Yes, sir," replied Hartmann stiffly as he recovered his self-control.

"Ach!" murmured Grimm, as he signed letter after letter and passed them over to Hartmann for sealing. "What a grip she has taken on my heart! A good girl, James. A good little girl. And I've sheltered her, ever since she came to me, as I shelter my violets from the cold. That's as it should be, hey?"

"Y-e-s,—in a way."

"What's that?" bristled Grimm, looking up at the unexpected answer to the question that had seemed to him to require none. "What do you mean? Oh, speak out, man!" as the secretary hesitated. "Never be afraid to express an honest opinion."

"I mean just this. No one can shape any one else's life. All people should be made to understand that they are—free."

"Free? Nonsense! Katje's free. Free as air. Do you mean to tell me a girl should be more free than she is? We must think for young people who can't think for themselves. And no girl can."

"But I believe——"

"Bah! Who cares what you believe. James, I'm sometimes afraid you're just a little bit set in your ways;—almost obstinate."

"But in this," stoutly maintained Hartmann, "I know I'm right. We can't think for other people any more than we can eat or sleep for them. Every happy creature is bound, by nature, to lead its own life. And, first of all, it must be free!"

"James," asked Grimm in amused contempt, "where on earth do you get these wild ideas?"

"By reading what modern thinkers write, sir."

"H'—m! I thought so. Change your mental diet. There's a set of Jost Vanden Vandell over on the shelves. Read it. Cultivate sentiment."

Hartmann shrugged his big shoulders and went on sealing and stamping letters. But Grimm would not let this topic drop so easily.

"Free!" he scoffed. "Maybe you've thought you noticed Katje was not happy?"

"No, sir. I can't honestly say I have."

"I should think not!" chimed in Peter. "These are the happiest hours of her whole life. Don't I know? Can't I tell? Don't I know her and love her better than any one else does? She's happy. Beautifully happy. And why shouldn't she be? She's young. She's in love. She's soon to be married. What girl wouldn't be happy?"

There was a long pause. Peter was reading over the last letter of the budget. Hartmann was staring at him aghast.

"Soon to be married?" breathed the secretary when he could steady his voice. "Then—then it's all settled, sir?"

"No," replied Peter. "But it soon will be. I'm going to settle it. Any one can see how she feels toward Frederik."

"But," faltered Hartmann lamely, "isn't she very—very young to be married?"

"Not when she marries into the family. Not when I'm here to watch over her. You see—Sit down again, James. I like to talk about it to some one who is interested. And you are interested, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," the secretary managed to say.

"Very good. Now, in following out my plans——"

"Oom Peter," called Kathrien from the dining-room, "I have your coffee all ready. Shall I bring it in?"

"By and by, dear. By and by. I am busy now. I'll let you know. Shut the door, won't you?"

She obeyed. And to the hungrily watching secretary it seemed as if the door were closing, in his very face, upon the gates of Paradise.

"In following my plans," Grimm was repeating, "I've had to be pretty shrewd and secretive. For it wouldn't do to let either of them suspect too soon. And I flatter myself they didn't. Here's my notion. I made up in my mind to keep Katje in the family. I'm a rich man. And so I've had to guard against young fellows who would dangle around after a girl for her money. I've guarded that point rather well. The whole town, for instance, understands that Katje hasn't a penny. Doesn't it?"

"I believe so."

"I've made a number of wills. But I've destroyed them all, one after another. And any time any of her boy friends called, I've—well, I've had business that kept me here in the room. When she goes to a dance, how does she go? With me. When she goes to the theatre, how does she go? With me. When she has had candy or any other present, who gave it to her? I did. And so it has been from the first. Every pleasure—she's had 'em all. And she had 'em all from me. What's the result? She's perfectly happy and——"

"But," argued Hartmann, "did you want her to be happy simply because you were happy? Didn't you want her to be happy because she——?"

"So long as she is happy," retorted Grimm, "why should I care what does it?"

"If she's happy," repeated the secretary.

"If she's happy?" mocked Grimm, his Dutch temper beginning to smoulder behind his gentle, obstinate little eyes. "If? What do you mean? That's the second time you've—Why do you harp on that if?"

His voice rose threateningly. The silver grey mane on his head bristled like a boar's. Hartmann rose and started quietly for the door.

"Where are you going?" shouted Grimm.

"Excuse me, sir," said the secretary, continuing his doorward progress.

"Come back here!" ordered Grimm fiercely. "Come back here, I say! Sit down! So! Now, tell me what you mean! What do you know—or think you know?"

"Mr. Grimm," answered Hartmann, cornered and desperate, "you are the greatest living authority on tulips. You can perform miracles with them. But you