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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13319-0.txt b/13319-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..123ded9 --- /dev/null +++ b/13319-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4605 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13319 *** + +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 side +of David Belasco. He has been privileged to hear expressed, by this Edison +of our stage, diverse opinions about plays and players of the past, and +about insurgent experiments of the immediate hour. He has always found a +man quickly responsive to the best memories of the past, an artist naively +childlike in his love of the theatre, shaped by old conventions and +modified by new inventions. Belasco is the one individual manager to-day +who has a workshop of his own; he is pre-eminently a creator, whereas his +contemporaries, like Charles Frohman, were emphatically manufacturers of +goods in the amusement line. + +Such a man is entitled to deep respect, for the "carry-on" spirit with +which he holds aloft the banner used by Boucicault, Wallack, Palmer, and +Daly. It is wrong to credit him with deafness to innovation, with +blindness to new combinations. He is neither of these. It is difficult to +find a manager more willing to take infinite pains for effect, with no +heed to the cost; it is impossible to place above him a director more +successful in creating atmosphere and in procuring unity of cooperation +from his staff. No one, unless it be Winthrop Ames, gives more personal +care to a production than David Belasco. Considering that he was reared in +the commercial theatre, his position is unique and distinctive. + +In the years to come, when students enter the Columbia University Dramatic +Museum, founded by Professor Brander Matthews, they will be able to judge, +from the model of the stage set for "Peter Grimm," exactly how far David +Belasco's much-talked-of realism went; they will rightly regard it as the +high point in accomplishment before the advent of the "new" scenery, whose +philosophy Belasco understands, but whose artistic spirit he cannot +accept. Maybe, by that time, there will be preserved for close examination +the manuscripts of Belasco's plays--models of thoroughness, of managerial +foresight. The present Editor had occasion once to go through these +typewritten copies; and there remains impressed on the memory the detailed +exposition in "The Darling of the Gods." Here was not only indicated every +shade of lighting, but the minute stage business for acting, revealing how +wholly the manager gave himself over to the creation of atmosphere. I +examined a mass of data--"boot plots," "light plots," "costume designs." +Were the play ever published in this form, while it might confuse the +general reader, it would enlighten the specialist. It would be a key to +realistic stage management, in which Belasco excels. Whether it be his own +play, or that of some outsider, with whom, in the final product, Belasco +always 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 is +most unfortunate that the stupendous record of his life's accomplishment +thus far, which, in two voluminous books, constituted the final labour of +the late William Winter, is not more truly reflective of the man and his +work. It fails to reproduce the flavour of the dramatic periods through +which Belasco passed, in his association with Dion Boucicault as private +secretary, in his work with James A. Herne at Baldwin's Theatre, in San +Francisco, in his pioneer realism at the old New York Madison Square +Theatre, when the Mallory Brothers were managers, Steele Mackaye was one +of the stock dramatists, Henry DeMille was getting ready for collaboration +with Belasco, Daniel Frohman was house-manager and Charles Frohman was out +on the road, trying his abilities as advance-man for Wallack and Madison +Square successes. Winter's life is orderly and matter-of-fact; Belasco's +real 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 magazine +reminiscences, which, if they are lacking in exact sequence, are measure +of 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--a +combine of managers that feared the advent of so individualistic a +playwright 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 on +vagaries. Whatever Belasco has touched since his days of apprenticeship in +San Francisco, he has succeeded in imposing upon it what is popularly +called "the Belasco atmosphere." Though he had done a staggering amount of +work before coming to New York, and though, when he went to the Lyceum +Theatre, he and Henry DeMille won reputation by collaborating in "The +Wife," "Lord Chumley," "The Charity Ball," and "Men and Women," he was +probably first individualized in the minds of present-day theatregoers +when Mrs. Leslie Carter made a sensational swing across stage, holding on +to the clapper of a bell in "The Heart of Maryland." Even thus early, he +was displaying characteristics for which, in later days, he remained +unexcelled. He was helping Bronson Howard to touch up "Baron Rudolph," +"The Banker's Daughter" and "The Young Mrs. Winthrop;" he was succeeding +with a dramatization of H. Rider Haggard's "She," where William Gillette +had failed in the attempt. + +"The Heart of Maryland" established both Belasco and Mrs. Carter. Then he +started on that extravagant period of spectacular drama, which gave to the +stage such memorable pictures as "Du Barry," with Mrs. Carter, and "The +Darling of the Gods," with Blanche Bates. In such pieces he literally +threw away the possibilities of profit, in order to gratify his decorative +sense. Out of that time came two distinctive pieces--one, the exquisitely +poignant "Madame Butterfly" and the other, "The Girl of the Golden West"-- +both giving inspiration to the composer, Puccini, who discovered that a +Belasco play was better suited for the purposes of colourful Italian opera +than any other American dramas he examined. + +Counting his western vicissitudes as one period, and the early New York +days as a second, one might say that in the third period David Belasco +exhibited those excellences and limitations which were thereafter to mark +him and shape all his work. There is an Oriental love of colour and effect +in all he does; but there is no monotony about it. "The Darling of the +Gods" was different from "The Girl of the Golden West," and both were +distinct from "The Rose of the Rancho." It is this scenic decorativeness +which has enriched many a slim piece, accepted by him for presentation, +and such a play has always been given that care and attention which has +turned it eventually into a Belasco "offering." None of his collaborators +will gainsay this genius of his. John Luther Long's novel was unerringly +dramatized; Richard Walton Tully, when he left the Belasco fold, imitated +the Belasco manner, in "The Bird of Paradise" and "Omar, the Tentmaker." +And that same ability Belasco possesses to dissect the heart of a romantic +piece was carried by him into war drama, and into parlour comedies, and +plays of business condition. I doubt whether "The Auctioneer" would read +well, or, for the matter of that, "The Music Master;" Charles Klein has +written 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 he +saw them fitted to the unique figure of David Warfield. + +But a Belasco success is furthered by the tremendous public curiosity that +follows him in all he does. There is a wizardry about him which +fascinates, and makes excellent reading in the press. Long before I saw +the three-winged screen upon which it is his custom to sort out and pin up +his random notes for a play, it was featured in the press. So were +pictures of his "collection," in rooms adjoining his studio--especially +his Napoleonic treasures which are a by-product of his Du Barry days. No +man of the theatre is more constantly on the job than he. It is said that +old John Dee, the famous astrologer whom Queen Elizabeth so often +consulted, produced plays when he was a student at Cambridge University, +with stage effects which only one gifted in the secrets of magic could +have consummated. Belasco paints with an electric switchboard, until the +emotion of his play is unmistakably impressed upon the eye. At a moment's +notice he will root out his proscenium arch, and build a "frame" which +obliterates the footlights; at another time he will build an "apron" to +his stage, not for its historical significance, but merely to give depth +and mellowness to such an ecclesiastical picture as Knoblauch's +"Marie-Odile." He has spent whole nights alone in the theatre auditorium +with his electrician, "feeling" for the "siesta" somnolence which carried +his audience instantly into the Spanish heat of old California, in "The +Rose of the Rancho;" and the moving scenery which took the onlooker from +the foot-hills of the Sierras to the cabin of "The Girl of the Golden +West" 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 the +value of elimination; the eye of the observer is often worried by the +multiplicity of detail, where reticence would have been more quickly +effective. This is the Oriental in Belasco. His is a strange blend of +realism and decorativeness. + +"A young man came to me once," he said to me, "with the manuscript of a +new play, which had possibilities in it. But after I had talked with him +awhile, I found him preaching the doctrines of the 'new' art. So I said to +him, 'My dear sir, here is your manuscript. The first scene calls for a +tenement-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 "all +is a matter of proportion and nothing to do with actuality." + +"I felt," Mr. Belasco continued, "that the young man would find difficulty +in reconciling the nebulous perspectives of Mr. Craig with the squalor of +a city block. I said to him, 'I have been producing for many years, and I +have mounted various plays calling for differing atmospheres. I don't want +to destroy your ideals regarding the 'new art', but I want you to realize +that a manager has to conform his taste to the material he has in hand. I +consider that one of the most truthful sets I have ever had on the stage +was the one for the second act of Eugene Walter's 'The Easiest Way'. A +boarding-house room on the top floor cannot be treated in any other way +than as a boarding-house room. And should I take liberties with what we +know 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 there +is no suggestion in realism; it is unwise to clutter the stage with +needless detail. But we cannot idealize a little sordid ice-box where a +working girl keeps her miserable supper; we cannot symbolize a broken jug +standing in a wash-basin of loud design. Those are the necessary evils of +a 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 would +have been an Elizabethan heart and soul. But his habit is formed as a +producer, and he conforms the "new" art to this habit as completely as +Reinhardt Reinhardtized the morality play, "Everyman," or Von Hofmannsthal +Teutonized "Elektra." + +"The Return of Peter Grimm" has been chosen for the present collection. It +represents a Belasco interest and conviction greater than are to be found +in any of his other plays. While there are no specific claims made for the +fact that_ PETER _materializes after his death, it is written with +plausibility and great care. The psychic phenomena are treated as though +real, and our sympathy for_ PETER _when he returns is a human sympathy for +the inability of a spirit to get his message across. The theme is not +etherealized; one does not see through a mist dimly. There was not even an +attempt, in the stage production of the piece, which occurred at the +Belasco Theatre, New York, on October 17, 1911, to use the "trick" of +gauze and queer lights; there was only one supreme thing done--to make the +audience feel that_ PETER _was on a plane far removed from the physical, +by the ease and naturalness with which he slipped past objects, looked +through people, and was unheeded by those whom he most wanted to +influence. The remarkable unity of idea sustained by Mr. Belasco as +manager, and by Mr. Warfield as actor, was largely instrumental in making +the play a triumph. The playwright did not attempt to create supernatural +mood; he did not resort to natural tricks such as Maeterlinck used in +"L'Intruse," or as Mansfield employed in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." He +reduced what to us seems, at the present moment, a complicated explanation +of a psychic condition to its simple terms, and there was nothing strange +to the eye or unusual in the situation. One cannot approach the theme of +the psychic without a personal concern. Sardou's "Spiritisme" was the +culmination of years of investigation; the subject was one with which +Belasco likewise has had much to do during the past years. + +It is a privilege to be able to publish "Peter Grimm." Thus far not many +of the Belasco plays are available in reading form. "May Blossom" and +"Madame Butterfly" are the only ones. "Peter Grimm" has been novelized--in +the day, now fortunately past, when a play was novelized in preference to +perpetuating its legitimate form. And excerpts from the dialogue have been +used. But this is the first time the complete text has appeared and it has +been carefully edited by the author himself. In addition to which Mr. +Belasco has written the following account of "Peter's" evolution, to be +used in this edition. + + +The play, "The Return of Peter Grimm," is an expression in dramatic +form of my ideas on a subject which I have pondered over since +boyhood: "Can the dead come back?" _Peter Grimm_ did come back. At +the same time, I inserted a note in my program to say that I +advanced no positive opinion; that the treatment of the play allowed +the audience to believe that it had actually seen _Peter_, or that +he had not been seen but existed merely in the minds of the +characters on the stage. Spiritualists from all over the country +flocked to see "The Return of Peter Grimm," and I have heard that it +gave comfort to many. It was a difficult theme, and more than once I +was tempted to give it up. But since it has given relief to those +who have loved and lost, it was not written in vain. Victorian +Sardou dealt with the same subject, but he did not show the return +of the dead; instead, he delivered a spirit message by means of +knocking on a table. His play was not a success, and I was warned by +my friends to let the subject alone; but it is a subject that I +never can or never have let alone; yet I never went to a medium in +my 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. Although +mediums have been exposed since the beginning of time, and so-called +"spiritualism" has fallen into disrepute over and over again, it +emerges triumphantly in spite of charlatans, and once more becomes +the theme of the hour. + +The subject first interested me when, as a boy, I read a story in +which the dead "foretold dangers to loved ones." My mother had +"premonitions" which were very remarkable, and I was convinced, at +the time, that the dead gave these messages to her. She personally +could not account for them. I probably owe my life to one of my +mother's premonitions. I was going on a steamboat excursion with my +school friends, when my mother had a strong presentiment of danger, +and begged me not to go. She gave in to my entreaties, however, much +against her will. Just as the boat was about to leave the pier, a +vision of her pale face and tear-filled eyes came to me. I heard her +voice repeating, "I wish you would not go, Davy." The influence was +so strong that I dashed down the gang-plank as it was being pulled +in. The boat met with disaster, and many of the children were killed +or wounded. These premonitions have also come to me, but I do not +believe as I did when a boy that they are warnings from the dead, +although I cannot explain them, and they are never wrong; the +message is always very clear. + +My mother convinced me that the dead come back by coming to me at +the 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 to +me. She seemed to be clothed in white. She repeated my name over and +over--the name she called me in my boyhood: "Davy! Davy!" She told +me not to grieve--that she was dying; that she _had_ to see me. I +distinctly saw her and heard her speak. + +She was in San Francisco at the time--I, in New York. After she +passed out of the room, I roused my family and told what I had heard +and seen. I said: "My mother is dead. I know she is dead;" but I +could not convince my family that I had not been dreaming. I was +very restless--could not sleep again. The next day (we were +rehearsing "Zaza") I went out for luncheon during the recess with a +member of my company. He was a very absent-minded man, and at the +table he took a telegram from his pocket which he said he had +forgotten to give me: it announced the death of my mother at the +time I had seen her in my room. I am aware that this could be +explained as thought transference, accompanied by a dream in which +my mother appeared so life-like as to make me believe the dream +real. This explanation, however, does not satisfy me. I am sure that +I did see her. Other experiences of a kindred nature served to +strengthen my belief in the naturalness of what we call the +supernatural. I decided to write a play dealing with the return of +the dead: so it followed that when I was in need of a new play for +David Warfield, I chose this subject. Slight of figure, unworldly, +simple in all his ways, Warfield was the very man to bring a message +back from the other world. Warfield has always appeared to me as a +character out of one of Grimm's Fairy Tales. He was, to my mind, the +one man to impersonate a spirit and make it seem real. So my desire +to write a play of the dead, and my belief in Warfield's artistry +culminated in "The Return of Peter Grimm." The subject was very +difficult, and the greatest problem confronting me was to preserve +the illusion of a spirit while actually using a living person. The +apparition of the ghost in "Hamlet" and in "Macbeth," the spirits +who return to haunt _Richard III_, and other ghosts of the theatre +convinced me that green lights and dark stages with spot-lights +would not give the illusion necessary to this play. All other +spirits have been visible to someone on the stage, but_ PETER _was +visible to none, save the dog (who wagged his tail as his master +returned from the next world) and to _Frederik_, the nephew, who was +to see him but for a second._ PETER _was to be in the same room with +the members of the household, and to come into close contact with +them. They were to feel his influence without seeing him. He was to +move among them, even appear to touch them, but they were to look +past him or above him--never into his face. He must, of course, be +visible to the audience. My problem, then, was to reveal a dead man +worrying about his earthly home, trying to enlist the aid of +anybody--everybody--to take his message. Certainly no writer ever +chose a more difficult task; I must say that I was often very much +discouraged, but something held me to the work in spite of myself. +The choice of an occupation for my leading character was very +limited. I gave_ PETER _various trades and professions, none of +which seemed to suit the part, until I made him a quaint old +Dutchman, a nursery-man who loved his garden and perennials--the +flowers that pass away and return season after season. This gave a +clue to his character; gave him the right to found his belief in +immortality 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 the +play in the month of April; April with its swift transitions from +bright sunlight to the darkness of passing clouds and showers. April +weather furnished a natural reason for raising and lowering the +lights--that the dead could come and go at will, seen or unseen. The +passing rain-storms blended with the tears of those weeping for +their loved ones. A man who comes back must not have a commonplace +name--a name suggestive of comedy--and I think I must have read over +every Dutch name that ever came out of Holland before I selected the +name 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 was +a 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 be +dear to all old-fashioned, home-loving people--unlike a room of the +present, from which every memento of parents and grand-parents would +be banished in favour of strictly modern or antique formal +furniture. In this room, the things of _Peter's_ father mingled with +those of _Peter's_ boyhood and young manhood. This was done in order +that the influence of his familiar belongings might be felt by the +people 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 any +of the familiar objects dear to her because of their associations,_ +PETER _was brought vividly back to her mind, although she could not +see him. + +_Peter's_ clothing was selected with unusual care so that it would +not catch the reflection from the lights. Months of preparation and +weeks 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 been +to me more than mere illumination. It is a revelation of the heart +and soul of the story. It points the way. Lights should be to the +play what the musical accompaniment is to the singer. A wordless +story could be told by lights. Lights should be mixed as a painter +mixes his colours--a bit of pink here, of blue there; a touch of +red, a lavender or a deep purple, with shadows intervening to give +the desired effect. Instead of throwing a mysterious light upon the +figure of _Peter_, I decided to reverse the process and put no +lights on him. The light was on the other people--the people still +in life, with just enough amber to give them colour. + +The play was cut and cut until there was not a superfluous line in +it. Every word was necessary, although it might not have seemed so +when read. It was only after the play was recalled as a whole, that +the necessity for everything could be seen. The coming of the circus +with the clown singing "Uncle Rat has come to town," and the noise +of the drums, are instances of this. It seemed like halting the +action to bring in a country circus procession, but its necessity is +shown in the final scene when the little boy, _William_, passes +away. It is always cruel to see a child die on the stage. The +purpose of the coming of the circus was to provide a pleasant memory +for the child to recall as his mind wandered away from earth, and to +have his death a happy one. This was made more effective when Peter +took up the refrain of the song as though he knew what was passing +in the dying boy's mind, showing that the dead have their own world +and their own understanding. + +No company of players ever had situations so fraught with danger of +failure. They were very nervous. Mr. Warfield appeared in the part +for several weeks before he felt at ease as the living man who +returns as his own spirit. + +There is one memory associated with the play which will remain in my +heart as long as it beats. This piece was written during the last +year-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 know +it. When the manuscript was finished, she kept it by her side, and, +notwithstanding her illness, saw the dress rehearsal. During the +writing of the play, she often said, "Yes, father, it is all true. I +believe every word of it." It was as though the thought embodied in +the play gave her comfort. When we discovered how ill she was, I +took her to Asheville, North Carolina, thinking the climate would +help her. She grew worse. Still hoping, we went to Colorado, and +there I lost her. + +It has seemed to me since that the inspiration compelling me to go +on with "Peter Grimm," in spite of its difficulties, came from this +daughter who died. + +I cannot close this reminiscence of "The Return of Peter Grimm" +without acknowledging the help and inspiration received from David +Warfield, without whose genius and personality the play would not +have been possible. + + +I doubt whether Mr. Belasco has ever infused so much imaginative ingenuity +into the structure and picture of a play. Even in the reading, its quaint +charm is instantly revealed. We quite agree with Winter in saying that the +effectiveness of the role of_ PETER _lies in its simplicity. This was the +triumph of Warfield's interpretation. It may have been difficult to attain +the desired effects, but once reached, technical skill did the rest. It +will be noted on the program that credit is given for an idea to Mr. Cecil +DeMille, son of Mr. Belasco's former collaborator. "The Return of Peter +Grimm" was scheduled for production in London by Sir Herbert Tree, but +plans were cut short by that actor's sudden death, July 2, 1917. + +Mr. Belasco's interest in the psychic and the supernatural has been seen +in other plays, notably in "The Case of Becky," by Edward Locke, and in +Henry Bernstein's "The Secret"--example of Belasco's most skilled +adaptation from the French, though we remember the excellence of his +version of Berton and Simon's "Zaza." That he thought Warfield admirably +suited to this type of play was one of the chief incentives which +prompted 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 given +in New York.[A] + +[Footnote A: Some of Mr. Belasco's recent opinions regarding the stage +have been published in book form, under the title, "The Theatre through +its Stage Door" (Harper).] + + +[Illustration: BELASCO THEATRE + +FORTY FOURTH STREET near BROADWAY +Under the Sole Management of DAVID BELASCO + +BEGINNING TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 17, 1911. +Matinees Thursday and Saturday. + +DAVID BELASCO +Presents +DAVID 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 thing +that tells in the long run; nothing else endures to the end." + +CAST OF CHARACTERS. + +PETER GRIMM..................................DAVID WARFIELD +FREDERIK, his nephew.........................JOHN SAINPOLIS +JAMES HARTMAN................................THOMAS MEIGHAN +ANDREW MacPHERSON............................JOSEPH BRENNAN +REV. HENRY BATHOLOMMEY.........................WILLIAM BOAG +COLONEL TOM LAWTON...........................JOHN F. WEBBER +WILLEM.........................................PERCY HELTON +KATHRIEN.......................................JANET DUNBAR +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY................................MARIE BATES +MARTA.......................................MARIE REICHARDT +THE 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 at +Grimm Manor, a small town in New York State, founded by early settlers +from Holland. + +The first act takes place at eleven o'clock in the morning, on a fine +spring day. + +The second act passes ten days later, towards the close of a rainy +afternoon. + +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 the +probability of the return of the main character of this play. For the +many, it may be said that he could exist only in the minds of the +characters grouped about him--in their subconscious memories. For _the +few_, his presence will embody the theory of the survival of persistent +personal energy. This character has, so far as possible, been treated to +accord with either thought. The initial idea of the play was first +suggested as a dramatic possibility by Mr. Cecil DeMille, to whom Mr. +Belasco acknowledges his indebtedness. A conversation with Professor +James, of Harvard, and the works of Professor Hyslop of the American +branch 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 granting +permission to include "The Return of Peter Grimm" in the present +Collection. All its rights are fully secured, and proceedings will +immediately be taken against any one attempting to infringe them.] + + +ACT I. + +_The scene shows a comfortable living-room in an old house. The furniture +was brought to America by _PETER GRIMM'S_ ancestors. The _GRIMMS_ were, +for the most part, frugal people, but two or three fine paintings have +been inherited by _PETER_. + +_A small, old-fashioned piano stands near the open window, a few +comfortable chairs, a desk with a hanging lamp above it, and an arm-chair +in front of it, a quaint old fireplace, a Dutch wall clock with weights, a +sofa, 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 a +table. 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. "Peter +Grimm's Botanic Gardens" supply seeds, plants, shrubbery and trees to the +wholesale, as well as retail trade, and the view suggests the importance +of the industry. An old Dutch windmill, erected by a Colonial ancestor, +gives a quaint touch, to the picture. Although _PETER GRIMM_ is a very +wealthy man, he lives as simply as his ancestors._ + +_As the curtain is raised, the room is empty; but _CATHERINE_ is +heard singing in the dining-room. _JAMES HARTMAN, PETER'S_ secretary, +opens his door to listen, a small bundle of letters in his +hand. 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 into +the office, leaving the door ajar. Presently _CATHERINE_ enters. In +spite of her youth and girlish appearance, she is a good, thrifty +housekeeper. She wears a simple summer gown, and carries a +bunch of gay tulips and an old silver pitcher, from which she presently +pours water into the Harlequin Delft vase on _PETER GRIMM'S_ desk. She +peeps 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 done +outside work and I prefer it; but I would shovel dirt rather than work for +any one else. + +CATHERINE. [_Amused._] James! + +JAMES. It's true. When the train reached the Junction, and a boy presented +the passengers with the usual flower and the "compliments of Peter +Grimm"--it took me back to the time when that was my job; and when I saw +the old sign, "Grimm's Botanic Gardens and Nurseries"--I wanted to jump +off the train and run through the grounds. It seemed as though every tulip +called "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 the +dirt in overalls--a gardener--all his life; and, of course, he +over-estimates an education. He's far more intelligent than most of our +college professors. + +CATHERINE. I understand why you came back. You simply must live where +things grow, mustn't you, James? So must I. Have you seen our orchids? + +JAMES. Orchids are pretty; but they're doing wonderful things with +potatoes these days. I'd rather improve the breed of a squash than to have +an orchid named after me. Wonderful discovery of Luther Burbank's-- +creating an edible cactus. Sometimes I feel bitter thinking what I might +have done with vegetables, when I was wasting time studying Greek. + +CATHERINE. [_Changing suddenly._] James: why don't you try to please Uncle +Peter Grimm? + +JAMES. I do; but he is always asking my opinion, and when I give it, he +blows up. + +CATHERINE. [_Coaxingly._] Don't be quite so blunt. Try to be like one of +the 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's +good to see you again. + +_He is still holding her hand when _FREDERIK GRIMM_ enters. He is the son +of _PETER'S_ dead sister, and has been educated by_ PETER _to carry on his +work. He is a graduate of Amsterdam College, Holland, and, in appearance +and manner, suggests the foreign student. He has managed to pull through +college creditably, making a specialty of botany._ PETER _has given him +the usual trip through Europe, and_ FREDERIK _has come to his rich uncle +to settle down and learn his business. He has been an inmate of the +household for a few months. He poses as a most industrious young man, but +is, at heart, a shirker._ + +FREDERIK. Where's Uncle? + +JAMES. Good-morning, Frederik. Your uncle's watching father spray the plum +trees. The black knot's after them again. + +FREDERIK. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Uncle wakes me up every morning +at five--creaking down the old stairs. [_Eyeing_ CATHERINE _admiringly._] +You're looking uncommonly pretty this morning, Kitty. [CATHERINE _edges +away and runs upstairs to her room._ + +FREDERIK. Hartman! + +JAMES. Yes? + +FREDERIK. Miss Catherine and you and I are no longer children--our +positions are altered--please remember that. I'm no longer a student home +for the holidays from Amsterdam College. I'm here to learn the business +which I am expected to carry on. Miss Catherine is a young lady now, and +my uncle looks upon her as his daughter. You are here as my uncle's +secretary. 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 in +our 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. I +am 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 on +the 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's +changing foliage with the years. + +FREDERIK. He's growing as old-fashioned as his hats. In my opinion, this +would be the time to sell. + +JAMES. [_Astonished._] Sell? Sell a business that has been in his family +for--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 from +Hicks, 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 the +peach orchard: "Johann Grimm, of Holland, an upright settler." There isn't +a 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--a +peddler 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--he +certainly knows his business. [_Changing._] God! It's an awful thought +that 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 dress +in the past thirty years. His clothing, collar, tie, hat and shoes are all +old-fashioned. He is an estimable man, scrupulously honest, gentle and +sympathetic; 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 in +our mid-summer floral almanac. + +PETER. [_Who has hung up his hat on his own particular peg, affably +assenting._] 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._] We +mustn'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 little +private room with James, or when I've slipped out to the hothouses,--you +are representing me in the offices--_young_ Mr. Grimm.... James, are you +ready for me? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. I'll attend to the mail in a moment. [_Missing_ CATHERINE, _he +calls according to the household signal._] Ou--oo! [_He is answered by_ +CATHERINE, _who immediately appears from her room, and comes running +downstairs._] Catherine, I have news for you. I've named the new rose +after you: "Katie--a hardy bloomer." It's as red as the ribbon in your +hair. + +CATHERINE. Thank you, Uncle Peter, thank you very much. And now you must +have 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 give +you 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 husband +would you prefer? + +CATHERINE. [_Annoyed,--with girlish impatience._] You're always speaking +of 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, my +grandmother's linen-chest upstairs must be used again for you +[_Impulsively drawing_ CATHERINE _to him._], my house fairy. [_Kisses +her._] There, I mustn't tease her. But I leave it to Fritz if I don't owe +her 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_ do +everything for _me_. + +PETER. Ah, but who lays out my linen? Who puts flowers on my desk every +day? Who gets up at dawn to eat breakfast with me? Who sees that I have my +second cup of coffee? But better than all that--who brings youth into my +old house? + +CATHERINE. That's not much--youth. + +PETER. No? We'll leave it to Fritz. [FREDERIK, _amused, listens in +silence._] What should I be now--a rough old fellow--a bachelor--without +youth in my house, eh? God knows! Katie has softened me towards all the +ladies--er--mellowed me as time has mellowed my old pictures. [_Points to +pictures._] And I was growing hard--hard and fussy. + +CATHERINE. [_Laughing._] Ah, Uncle Peter, have I made you take a liking to +all the rest of the ladies? + +PETER. Yes. It's just as it is when you have a pet: you like all that +breed. You can only see _your_ kind of kitten. + +JAMES. [_Coming down a step, impressed by_ PETER'S _remark--speaking +earnestly._] That's so, sir. [_The others are surprised._] I hadn't +thought of it in that way, but it's true. You study a girl for the first +time, and presently you notice the same little traits in every one of +them. It makes you feel differently towards all the rest. + +PETER. [_Amused._] Why, James, what do you know about girls? "Bachelor" is +stamped 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 order +a three-rib roast, who's to eat it? I never had a proper roast until Katie +and Frederik came to make up my family; [_Rubbing his hands._] but the +roasts are not big enough. [_Giving_ FREDERIK _a knowing look._] We must +find 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 the +plates 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, the +gardens 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. [_Then +changing._] Is it--er--a good offer? Is Hicks willing to make it worth +while? [_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 should +say not! + +FREDERIK. Mere curiosity on my part, that's all. + +PETER. Of course, I understand. Sell out? No indeed. We are thinking of +the next generation. + +FREDERIK. Certainly, sir. + +PETER. We're the last of the family. The business--that's Peter Grimm. It +will 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 our +new 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 Quassick +Creek, New York State, Johann Grimm, aged twenty-two, husbandman and +vine-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 almost +suffused--repeating each word to himself, as she reads. He has lived over +each generation down to the present and nods in approval as she reaches +this point._] The foundation of our house. And here we are prosperous and +flourishing--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 in +the book. [_To_ CATHERINE _--slyly--as she closes the book._] If my sister +could see Frederik, what a proud mother she would be! + +JAMES. [_Turning from the 'phone to_ PETER.] Old man Hicks himself has +come 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 plum +trees? [_Listens._] Bad, eh? Well, we can only pray and use Bordeaux +Mixture.... No.... Nonsense! This business has been in my family for seven +generations. Why sell? I'll see that it stays in the family seven +generations longer! [_Echoing._] Do I propose to live that long? N--no; +but my plans will. [_Looks towards_ FREDERIK _and_ CATHERINE.] How? Never +mind. 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--standing +with the pot in his hands._] And remember the saying: [_A twinkle in his +upraised eyes._] "Thou, O God, sellest all good things at the price of +labour." [_Smells the tulips and sets them down._ + +FREDERIK. [_Goes briskly towards the door._] That's true, sir. I want to +speak to you later, Uncle--[_Turning, looking at_ JAMES.] on a private +matter. [_He goes off looking at his watch, as though he had a hard day's +work before him._ + +PETER. [_Looking after_ FREDERIK.] Very capable young fellow, Frederik. I +was a happy man, James, when I heard that he had won the prize for botany +at 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 to +James. We used to have him to dinner very often before he went away. Now +that 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, will +you 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._] Fresh +green herbs in the dressing and a Figaro pudding. Marta brought over that +pudding receipt from Holland. + +MARTA, _an old family servant, has entered with the air of having +forgotten to wind the clock. She smiles happily at_ PETER'S _allusion to +her 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 coming +out lately, James? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. You've noticed it, too? [_Picks up another letter, looking over +it._ + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. [_Pausing, taking off his eye-glasses and holding them on his +thumb. Philosophically._] How prettily Nature accomplishes her will-- +making a girl doubly beautiful that a young man may yield his freedom the +more easily. Wonderful! [_During the following, he glances over letters._] +A young girl is like a violet sheltered under a bush, James; and that is +as 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 free +beings and-- + +PETER. Free? Of course Katie's free--to a certain extent. Do you mean to +tell me that any young girl should be freer? Nonsense! She should be happy +that _I_ am here to think for her--_I_! _We_ must think for people who +can't think for themselves; and a young girl can't. [_Signing an answer to +a 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't +think for others--any more than we can eat or sleep for them. + +PETER. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... I see what you +mean. + +JAMES. Of course, every happy being is bound by its nature to lead its own +life--that it may be a free being. Evidently I didn't make my meaning +clear. [_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. Cultivate +sentiment. [_Signing the letter._] Happy? Has it ever occurred to you that +Katie 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 towards +Frederik. + +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 the +house--[_Touching his chest._] to guard her--to watch over her. Leave it +to _me_. [_Enthusiastically._] Sit here, James. Take one of Frederik's +cigars. [JAMES _politely thanks him, but doesn't take one._] It's a +pleasure 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 carry +out my plans-- + +CATHERINE. [_Sticking her head in the door._] Ready for coffee? + +PETER. Er--a little later. Close the door, dear. [_She disappears, closing +the door._] In order to carry out my plans, I have had to use great +diplomacy. I made up my mind to keep Katie in the family; being a rich +man--everybody knows it--I've had to guard against fortune-hunters. +However, I think I've done away with them, for the whole town understands +that 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 bring +Catherine up to keep her in the family, and it has been fulfilled. My +plans 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 time +you'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 I +have the greatest respect for your opinion; but you can't mate people as +you'd graft tulips. And more than once, I've--I've caught her crying and +I've thought perhaps ... + +PETER. [_Pooh-poohing._] Crying? Of course! Was there ever a girl who +didn't cry?... You amuse me ... with your ideas of life.... Ha! Haven't I +asked her why she was crying,--and hasn't she always said: "I don't know +why--it's nothing." They love to cry. [_Signs the last letter._] But +that's what they all cry over--nothing. James, do you know how I happened +to 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 queer +notions. You are young, but see that you don't need the Doctor, James. Do +you know how I was cured? I'll tell you. One day, when I had business in +the city, the Doctor went with me, and before I knew what he was at--he +had marched me into a home for babies.... Katie was nearest the door--the +first one. Pinned over her crib was her name: "Catherine Staats, aged +three months." She held out her little arms ... so friendless--so +pitiful--so alone--and I was done for. We brought her back home, the +Doctor, a nurse and I. The first time I carried her up those stairs--all +my fine bachelor's ideas went out of my head. I knew then that my theories +were all humbug. I had missed the child in the house who was to teach me +everything. I had missed many children in my house. From that day, I +watched over her life. [_Rising, pointing towards the head of the +stairs._] James, I was born in this house--in the little room where I +sleep; and her children shall one day play in the room in which I was +born.... That's very pretty, eh? [_Wipes his eyes, sentimentally._] I've +always 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 children +shall play, so long as they play happily. + +PETER. What? Her children can play anywhere--in China if they want to! Are +you 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 keep +my household together, by your leave. [_Banging his clenched fist on the +desk._] It's my plan. [_Cleans his pipe, looking at_ JAMES _from time to +time._ 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 is +pastoor's dag."_ (It is the pastor's day.)] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It's +William's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_ +PETER _calls "Come in,"_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, stands +timidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand._] How are you +to-day, William? [_Pats_ WILLIAM _on the shoulder._ + +WILLIAM. The Doctor says I'm well now. + +PETER. Good! Then you shall take flowers to the church. [_Calls off._] A +big armful, Otto! + +MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which she +tucks into_ WILLIAM'S _breast pocket._ + +PETER. [_In a low voice, to_ JAMES.] There's your example of freedom! +William's mother, old Marta's spoiled child, was free. You remember +Annamarie, James?--let to come and go as she pleased. God knows where she +is now ... and here is William with the poor old grandmother.... Run along +with the flowers, William. [_Gives_ WILLIAM _some pennies as he goes._] +How he shoots up, eh, Marta? + +MARTA. [_With the hopeless sorrow of the old, as she passes off._] +Poor child ... poor child. + +PETER. Give Katie more freedom, eh? Oh, no! I shall guard her as I would +guard my own, for she is as dear to me as though she were mine, and, by +marriage, please God, she shall be a Grimm in _name_. + +JAMES. Mr. Grimm, I--I wish you would transfer me to your branch house in +Florida. + +PETER. What? You who were so glad to come back! James, you need a holiday. +Close your desk. Go out and busy yourself with those pet vegetables of +yours. Change your ideas; then come back sane and sensible, and attend to +your work. [_Giving a last shot at_ JAMES _as he passes into the office +and_ FREDERIK _re-enters._] You don't know what you want! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking after_ JAMES.] Uncle Peter, when I came in this +morning, I made up my mind to speak to you of James. + +PETER. James? + +FREDERIK. Yes, I've wondered lately if ... it seems to me that James is +interested in Catherine. + +PETER. James? Impossible. + +FREDERIK. I'm not so sure. + +PETER. [_Good-naturedly._] James? James Hartman? + +FREDERIK. When I look back and remember him as a barefoot boy living in a +shack behind our hot-houses--and see him now--in here with you-- + +PETER. All the more credit, Frederik. + +FREDERIK. Yes; but these are the sort of fellows who dream of getting into +the firm. And there 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 think +of 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 shrewd +glance; but_ PETER, _suspecting nothing, continues._] I meant ... has +James shown any special interest in you? + +CATHERINE. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... [_Flurried._] +Why, Uncle Peter!... Uncle Peter!... whatever put this notion into your +head? + +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,--if +that's what you mean. He has always been very respectful in a perfectly +friendly way. + +PETER. [_Convinced._] Respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_To_ +FREDERIK.] You can't ask more than that. Thank you, dear, that's all I +wanted. Run along. [_Glad to escape,_ CATHERINE _leaves the room._] He was +only respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_Slaps_ FREDERIK _on the +back._] 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 as +day. He's trying to make love to her under our very eyes. I saw him. I +wish you would ask him to stay in his office and attend to his own +business. [JAMES _now re-enters on his way to the gardens._] + +PETER. James, it has just occurred to me--that--[_James pauses._] What +was your reason for wanting to give up your position? Had it anything to +do 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, do +you 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 at +the desk._] Get your money at the office. You may have that position in +Florida. 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 her +good-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, and +perhaps 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 he +passes him._] Hy're you, Jim? Glad Jim's back. One of the finest lads I +ever 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 exceedingly +intellectual. He is the rare type of doctor who forgets to make out his +bills. He has a grizzled grey beard, and his hair is touched with grey. He +wears silver-rimmed spectacles. His substantial but unpressed clothing is +made 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 and +leaves 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 have +you done? [_Casually_.] Were you to die,--say to-morrow,--how would it be +with--[_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, but +every one must come to it--sooner or later. I mean--what would Katie's +position be in this house? I know you've set your heart upon her marrying +Frederik, and all that sort of nonsense, but will it work? I've always +thought '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, but +supposing 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 tell +you. No cause for apprehension, but-- + +PETER. Then why tell me? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When I cured you of that cold--wet flowerbeds--two days +ago, I made a discovery. [_Seeing_ CATHERINE _enter, he pauses. She is +followed by_ MARTA, _carrying a tray containing coffee and a plate of +waffles_.] Coffee! I told you not to touch coffee, Peter. It's rank +poison. + +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 plate +and more waffles, and_ CATHERINE _follows her_.] Now, Andrew, you can't +tell me that I'm sick. I won't have it. Every day we hear of some old boy +one 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 babies +creeping on my old floor; playing with my old watch-dog, Toby. I've +promised myself a long line of rosy Grimms. + +DR. MACPHERSON. My God, Peter! That dog is fifteen years old now. Do you +expect 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 old +age. [_Markedly, though feigning to treat the subject lightly_.] Er-- +Peter, I should like to make a compact with you ... that whoever _does_ go +first--and you're quite likely to outlive me,--is to come back and let the +other fellow know ... and settle the question. Splendid test between old +neighbours--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 for +any assistance in your spook tests. + +DR. MACPHERSON. And how many times do you think _you've_ been a spook +yourself? You can't tell me that man is perfect; that he doesn't live more +than one life; that the soul doesn't go on and on. Pshaw! The persistent +personal energy must continue, or what _is_ God? [CATHERINE _has +re-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 to +hear it. [_To_ DR. MACPHERSON.] Andrew, I'll stay behind, contented in +_this_ life; knowing what I have here on earth, and you shall die and +return with your--ha!--persistent personal whatever-it-is, and keep the +spook compact. Every time a knock sounds, or a chair squeaks, or the door +bangs, 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 to +promise, too. Understand that I am not a so-called spiritist. I am merely +a seeker after truth. [_Puts more sugar in his coffee_. + +PETER. That's what they _all_ are--seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do you +really believe such stuff? + +DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here--here--near +us--close at hand. [PETER, _in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peeps +under 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 waste +their lives dreaming of the world to come. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You can't call Sir Charles Crookes, the inventor of +Crookes Tubes,--a waster? Nor Sir Oliver Lodge, the great biologist; nor +Curie, the discoverer of radium; nor Doctor Lombroso, the founder of +Science of Criminology; nor Doctors Maxwell, deVesmé, Richet, Professor +James, of Harvard, and our own Professor Hyslop. Instead of laughing at +ghosts, the scientific men of to-day are trying to lay hold of them. The +frauds and cheats are being crowded from the field. Science is only just +peeping 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 take +it to the police station. That's the proper place for frauds. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I'm sorry, Peter, very sorry, to see that you, like too +many others, make a jest of the most important thing in life. Hyslop is +right: man will spend millions to discover the North Pole, but not a penny +to discover his immortal destiny. + +PETER. [_Stubbornly_.] I don't believe in spook mediums and never shall +believe in them. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Probably most professional mediums cheat--perhaps every +one 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 old +friends come straight back to me and say, "Peter Grimm, here I am!" When +they do--if they do--I shall be the first man to take off my hat to them +and hold out my hand in welcome. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You ask me why? Why can't a telegram travel on a fence +instead of on a wire? Your friends could come back to you if you could put +yourself in a receptive condition; but if you cannot, you must depend upon +a medium--a sensitive. + +PETER. A what? [_To_ CATHERINE.] Something new, eh? He has all the names +for them. Yesterday it was "apports"--flowers that fell down from nowhere +and hit you on the nose. He talks like a medium's parrot. He has only to +close his eyes and along comes the parade. Spooks! Spooky spooks! And now +he 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 seen +a good many cross to the other world; tell me--did you ever see one of +them come back--one? + +DR. MACPHERSON. No. + +PETER. [_Sipping his coffee_.] Never have, eh? And never will. Take +another cup of poison, Andrew. + +_The_ DOCTOR _gives his cup to_ CATHERINE, _who fills it_. PETER _passes +the waffles to the_ DOCTOR, _at the same time winking at_ CATHERINE _as +the_ DOCTOR _takes another_. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There was not perhaps the intimate bond between doctor and +patients 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 to +hear him tell of-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I have known of a return such as you mention. A distant +cousin 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 the +telephone, why cannot a soul with a God-given force behind it dart over +the entire universe? Is Thomas Edison greater than God? + +CATHERINE. [_Shocked_.] Doctor! + +DR. MACPHERSON. And they can't tuck it _all_ on telepathy. Telepathy +cannot explain the case of a spirit-message giving the contents of a +sealed letter known only to the person that died. Here's another +interesting 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, _who +is all attention_.] An officer on the Polar vessel, the _Jeannette_, sent +to the Artic regions by the New York _Herald_, appeared at his wife's +bedside. _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 the +vision. + +PETER. A bad dream. "Six bells and the"--Ha! Ha! Spirit messages! Suet +pudding has brought me messages from the North Pole, and I receive +messages from Kingdom Come after I've eaten a piece of mince pie. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There have been seventeen thousand other cases found to be +worth investigation by the London Society of Psychical Research. + +PETER. [_Changing_.] Supposing, Andrew, that I did "cross over"--I believe +that's what you call dying,--that I _did_ want to come back to see how you +and the little Katie and Frederik were getting on, how do you think I +could manage to do it? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When we hypnotize subjects, Peter, our thoughts take +possession of them. As we enter their bodies, we take the place of a +something that leaves them--a shadow-self. This self can be sent out of +the room--even to a long distance. This self leaves us entirely after +death on the first, second or third day, or so I believe. This is the +force 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 astral +envelope. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Easily_.] De Rochas has actually photographed it by +radio-photography. + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mind you--they couldn't _see_ it when they photographed +it. + +PETER. I imagine not. See it? Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. It stood a few feet away from the sleeper, and was located +by striking at the air and watching for the corresponding portion of the +sleeper's body to recoil. By pricking a certain part of this shadow-self +with a pin, the cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. The camera +was focussed on this part of the shadow-self for fifteen minutes. The +result was the profile of a head. + +PETER. [_After a pause_.] ... You believe that? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The experiment has been repeated again and again. Nobody +acquainted with the subject denies it now. + +PETER. Spook pictures taken by professional mediums! [_Turning away from +the table as though he had heard enough._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. De Rochas, who took the pictures of which I speak, is a +lawyer of standing; and the room was full of scientists who saw the +pictures taken. + +PETER. Hypnotized--all of them. Humbug, Andrew! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Under these conditions, it is quite impossible to +hypnotize a room full of people. Perhaps you think the camera was +hypnotized? In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural current +of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several +degrees. 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 set +to shivery music. [_Sings_.] Tol! Dol! Dol! Dol! [_Rising to get his pipe +and tobacco_.] No, sir! I refuse to agree to your compact. You cannot pick +the lock of heaven's gate. We don't come back. God did enough for us when +he gave us life and strength to work and the work to do. He owes us no +explanations. 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 that +men have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism, +daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy and +lighting by gas. [_Showing feeling_.] I'm very much disappointed that you +refuse my request. + +PETER. [_Laying down his pipe on the table_.] Since you take it so +seriously--here--[_Offers his hand_.] I'll agree. I know you're an old +fool--and I'm another. Now then--[_Shakes hands._] it's settled. +Whichever one shall go first--[_He bursts into laughter--then controlling +himself_.] 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_.], let +us 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 and +I 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 and +entered. She is about forty years of age. Her faded brown hair is streaked +with grey. She wears a plain black alpaca costume._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Agitated_.] Good-morning, Doctor. Fortunate that I +found 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 minister +of the Dutch Reformed Church._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Hy're, Henry? + +_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _bows._ WILLIAM _has returned from his errand +and entered the room,--a picture-book under his arm. He sits up by the +window, absorbed in the pictures--unnoticed by the others._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Closing the door left open by_ PETER, _shutting out +the sound of his voice_.] Well, Doctor ... [_She pauses for a moment to +catch her breath and wipe her eyes_.] I suppose you've told him he's got +to die. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Eyeing_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _with disfavour_.] Who's got to +die? + +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 things +to his wife. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor! + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With solicitude_.] I greatly grieve to hear that +Mr. Grimm has an incurable malady. His heart, I understand. [_Shakes his +head._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. He's not to be told. Is that clear? He may die in twenty +minutes--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 wonder +you Doctors don't baptize the babies. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. At the last minute, he'll want to make a will--and you +know he hasn't made one. He'll want to remember the church and his +charities and his friends; and if he dies before he can carry out his +intentions, 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 your +own affairs. Did you never hear the story of the lady who flattened her +nose--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 any +attention 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 jug +on the sideboard and hangs up the key. The_ BATHOLOMMEYS _look sadly at_ +PETER. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _in the fore-ground tries to smile pleasantly, but +can only assume the peculiarly pained expression of a person about to +break terrible news._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising to the occasion--warmly grasping_ PETER'S +_hand_.] Ah, my dear friend! Many thanks for the flowers William brought +us, and the noble cheque you sent me. We're still enjoying the vegetables +you 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't +mean that--I-- + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Cheerily_.] Of course, she does; and why not, why +not, dear friend? + +PETER. Will you have a glass of my plum brandy? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly_.] No, thank you. As you know, I belong to the +W.C.T.U. + +PETER. Pastor? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Tolerantly_.] No, thank you. I am also opposed to +er-- + +PETER. We're going to drink to spooks--the Doctor and I. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With a startled cry_.] Oh! [_Lifts her handkerchief to +her eyes_.] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea--you of +all people! + +PETER. [_Coming down with two glasses--handing one to the_ DOCTOR.] You +seem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a trifle +nervous 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 you +were. + +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's +too 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 the +F-- 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 very +contented 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 a +typical 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 looks +out 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 at +the window. The music comes nearer and nearer--the parade is supposed to +be passing._ WILLIAM _gives a cry of delight as a clown appears at the +window with handbills under his arm._ + +THE CLOWN. [_As he throws the handbills into the room_.] Billy Miller's +big show and monster circus is in town this afternoon. Only one ring. No +confusion. [_Seeing_ WILLIAM.] Circus day comes but once a year, little +sir. 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 the +voices of shouting children are heard as they run after him._ + +PETER. [_Putting his hand in his pocket_.] We'll go. You may buy the +tickets, William--two front seats. [FREDERIK _re-enters with a floral +catalogue._ + +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. [_Pointing +to_ 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've +got to die, Mr. Grimm. + +_There is a pause._ PETER _stops short, looking at_ WILLIAM. _The others +are startled, but stand motionless, watching the effect of_ WILLIAM'S +_revelation._ FREDERIK _doesn't know what to make of it. There is an +ominous silence in the room. Then_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _whose smile has been +frozen 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 you +think 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 _now +understands 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 his +eyes on the_ CLERGYMAN _who is looking at him warningly. The tears run +down his cheeks--he puts his fingers to his lips--afraid to speak_.] Don't +be frightened. You heard the Doctor say that? + +WILLIAM. [_His voice trembling_.] Y--es, sir. + +PETER. [_Looks round the room--beginning to understand_.] ... What did you +mean, 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 over +instantly. God bless you, sir. I've never come to you for any worthy +charity 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--a +little valve--[_Tapping heart_]--here. [_Slaps_ PETER _on the shoulder_] +There's my 'phone, [_As a bell is heard faintly but persistently ringing +across 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 to +imagine you're worse than you are. [_Angrily_.] Don't funk! + +PETER. [_Calmly_] That wasn't my reason for detaining you, Andrew. [_With +a 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't +forget to come back and apologize for my want of faith. [_The_ DOCTOR +_goes home_. FREDERIK _stands looking at his_ UNCLE. _There is a long +pause._ PETER _throws up both hands_] Rubbish! Doctors are very often +wrong. 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 old +leaf ready to curl up, eh, Fritz? [_He drains the glass. Goes up to the +peg, 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 and +me. + +FREDERIK. Are you going ... after all? ... And with that child? + +PETER. Why not? + +FREDERIK. [_Suddenly showing feeling_.] That little tattler? A child that +listens to everything and just told you ... He shouldn't be allowed in +this part of the house. He should be sent away. + +PETER. [_Astonished_.] Why do you dislike him, Frederik? He's a fine +little fellow. You surprise me, my boy ... [CATHERINE _enters and goes to +the piano, running her hands softly over the keys--playing no melody in +particular._ PETER _sits in his big chair at the table and picks up his +pipe._ FREDERIK, _with an inscrutable face, now strikes a match and holds +it to his uncle's pipe_. PETER _thoughtfully takes one or two puffs; then +speaking so as not to be heard by_ CATHERINE.] Frederik, I want to think +that after I'm gone, everything will be the same here ... just as it is +now. + +FREDERIK. Yes, sir. [_Sitting near_ PETER. + +PETER. Just as it is ... [FREDERIK _nods assent_. PETER _smokes. The room +is very cheerful. The bright midday sunshine creeps through the windows,-- +almost causing a haze in the room--and resting on the pots and vases and +bright 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_.] And +my 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 this +again. 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 the +garden bell rings outside_. + +FREDERIK. Noon. + +PETER. [_Opening the Book at the history of the family--points to the +closely 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 rose +in her belt_.] Will you?... + +CATHERINE. I ... I don't know.... + +PETER. [_Taking the rose and her hand in his own_] I know for you, my +dear. 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 hand +in_ FREDERIK'S, _taking the rose, and tapping their clasped hands with the +flower 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 a +month, 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. [_He +kisses_ CATHERINE. _Then, releasing her, he nods to_ FREDERIK _to follow +his 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 at +him, startled._ FREDERIK, _struck, looking intently at_ PETER _who sits +motionless._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter ... Uncle! What is it? What's the matter? [_Runs to +the door--calling across the street._] Doctor! There he is--just going +out. [_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._] Uncle +Peter! Answer me! ... It's Katie! + +_The_ DOCTOR _enters hurriedly._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. Is it ... Peter? [_He goes quickly to_ PETER _and listens +to 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 be +dead ... I've got his ticket to the circus. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _The second act takes place ten days later, towards the close +of a rainy afternoon. A fire is burning in the grate and a basket +of hickory wood stands beside the hearth._ PETER'S _hat is no longer on +the peg. His pipes and jar of tobacco are missing. A number of wedding +presents are set on a table, some unopened. The interior of the room, with +its snapping fire, forms a pleasant contrast to the gloomy exterior. The +day is fading into dusk._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _is at the piano, playing the +wedding 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 a +very _quiet_ wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You're not to +speak as you enter the room and take your places near the piano. Miss +Staats will come down from her room,--at least I suppose she will--and +will 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 takes +her place at the foot of the stairs and the children repeat the song until +she has marched across the room and stationed herself in some appropriate +corner. As_ FREDERIK _appears from the hall, where he leaves his raincoat +and umbrella,_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _motions the children to silence._] That +will do, dears, thank you. Hurry home between showers. [_The children go +as she explains to_ FREDERIK.] My Sunday-school scholars.... I thought +your dear uncle would like a song at the wedding. I know how bright and +cheery 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 little +fellow. William is very much better. + +FREDERIK. [_Taking a telegram from his pocket-book._] Well, we shall soon +be off to Europe. I've just had a telegram to say a cabin has been +reserved for me on the _Imperator_. To-morrow, thank God, we shall take +the afternoon train to New York. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I must confess that I'm very glad. Of course, I'm happy +to stay and chaperone Catherine; but poor Mr. Batholommey has been alone +at the parsonage for ten days ... ever since your dear uncle ... [_Pauses, +unwinding yarn, then unburdening her mind._] I didn't think at first that +Catherine 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 immediate +marriage; but of course it was your uncle's last request, and that +influenced 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 he +left us. [_Remembering._] Some more letters marked personal came for him +while you were out. I put them in the drawer--[_Points to desk._] with +the rest. It seems odd to think the postman brings your uncle's letters +regularly, 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 things +to-night, Marta. [_She notices the lamp._] The night lamp for William? +[_Looks up towards the door of his room._] Go in very quietly. He's +asleep, 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 your +uncle had left a personal memorandum concerning us. We're anxious to hear +it read. [FREDERIK, _paying no attention to her words, is glancing at the +wedding 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 very +glad you consented to come back. My uncle never went into his office again +after you left. There is some private correspondence concerning matters of +which I know nothing; it lies on your old desk.... I'm anxious to settle +everything to-night. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room._ + +JAMES. Very well. I have no doubt but that I can get through with it by +midnight. + +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. I +have no ill-feeling against you, Hartman. + +JAMES. I'm not refusing to stay because of any ill-feeling. I'm going +because 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 dear +old uncle's. + +JAMES. I hope so. I haven't forgotten that you wanted him to sell out to +Hicks of Rochester on the very day he died. [_Exit into the office._ + +CATHERINE _comes from_ WILLIAM'S _room, simply dressed in white--no touch +of 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 as +he.... [_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 I +could stay quietly here in--[_Tears in her voice as she looks round the +room._]--in my dear home. + +FREDERIK. Why do you want to stay in this old cottage--with its candles +and lamps and shadows? It's very gloomy, very depressing. + +CATHERINE. I don't want to leave this house.... I don't want any home but +this. [_Panic-stricken._] Don't take me away Frederik. I know you've never +really liked it at Grimm's Manor. Are you sure you'll want to come back to +live here? + +FREDERIK. [_As though speaking to a child._] Of course. I'll do anything +you 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 I +owed everything to him.... If he had lived ... if I could see _his_ +happiness at our marriage--it would make _me_ happy; [_Pathetically._] but +he's gone ... and ... I'm afraid we're making a mistake. I don't feel +towards you as I ought, Frederik. I've told you again and again; but I +want to tell you once more: I'm willing to marry you ... but I don't love +you--I never shall. + +FREDERIK. How do you know? + +CATHERINE. I know ... I know.... It seems so disloyal to speak like this +after 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 your +promise? + +CATHERINE. That's it. That's what makes me try to live up to it. [_Wiping +her eyes._] But you know how I feel.... You understand.... + +FREDERIK. Perfectly; you don't quite know your own mind.... Very few young +girls 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 down +the 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 he +on 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 you +were when you came back from college and found him living here. You never +mention his mother's name, yet you played together as children. When Uncle +tried to find Annamarie and bring her back, you were the only one opposed +to it. + +FREDERIK. William is an uncomfortable child to have in the house. He has a +way of staring at people as though he had a perpetual question on his +lips. It's most annoying. + +CATHERINE. What question? + +FREDERIK. As for his mother--I've never seen her since she left this house +and I don't care to hear her name on your lips. Her reputation is--[_The +rain starts pattering on the shingled roof._] Tc! More rain ... the third +day 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, his +son James is here for a few hours--to straighten matters out. I must see +how he's getting on. [_Taking her hand, drawing her towards the table with +a change of manner._] Have you seen all the wedding presents, Kitty? I'll +be back in a few minutes. [_Pats her cheek and exits._ + +CATHERINE _stands over her wedding presents just as he left her--not +looking at them--her eyes filled with tears. The door is suddenly opened +and the_ DOCTOR _enters, a tweed shawl over his shoulders, wearing a tweed +cap. He has a book under his arm._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE _tries to hide her tears, but he +sees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa._] What's +the matter? + +CATHERINE. Nothing.... I was only thinking.... I was hoping that those we +love ... and lose ... _can't_ see us here. I'm beginning to believe +there's not much happiness in _this_ world. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talking +like that with life before you! Read this book, child; [_Gesturing towards +the book on the sofa._] it proves that the dead do see us; they do come +back. [_Walks to the foot of the stairs--turns._] Catherine, I understand +that you've not a penny to your name--unless you marry Frederik; that he +has inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let that +influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look as though they +did--my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [_Goes half-way up +the stairs--then pauses._] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a few +silver spoons--[_Pointing to the wedding presents_ stand in the way of +your future. [_Exit into_ WILLIAM'S _room. The rain increases. The sky +grows blacker--the room darker._ CATHERINE _gives a cry and stretches out +her arms, not looking up._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you ask +it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [_She stands rigid--her +arms outstretched._ MARTA, _who has silently entered from the dining-room +with fresh candles, goes to_ CATHERINE. CATHERINE _suddenly buries her +face on_ MARTA'S _broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes +her 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's +loss 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 the +door._ CATHERINE _starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily +goes into the next room, taking the_ DOCTOR'S _book with her._ MARTA _has +hurried towards the front door, when the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _and_ +COLONEL LAWTON _appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to +escape the storm._ MARTA, _greeting them, passes of to tell_ FREDERIK _of +their 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 negligée +shirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and +peering at people before answering them. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _sets +his umbrella in the hall and the_ COLONEL _hangs his broad-brimmed hat on +the 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 for +baptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder._ +FREDERIK _enters._] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time you +mentioned. + +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 a +paper-weight._] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I +only came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. A +flash of lightning illuminates the room._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but +he 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 a +decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap._ MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands +over 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 going +to take it. It's a bad night. [_Drinks._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazes +up, making the room much lighter._] Go ahead, Frederik. [_Sits._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seats +himself before the snapping hickory fire._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friends +and his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was the +very 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 knew +he'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think that +he'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was so +thoughtful! His purse was always open. + +FREDERIK. [_Eyes_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _for a second, then continues._] For +Mr. Batholommey--[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _nods solemnly._] and the Colonel. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking out a cigar._] He knew that I did the best I +could 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 to +have 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 my +profound respects." [_Continues._] To Colonel Lawton-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is _that_ what he left to _Henry_? Is +that 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 my +most cherished possession." [COLONEL LAWTON _has a look on his face as +though 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 upon +to leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only last +month, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give you +something he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the +fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell,--it's the sentiment of the thing +that 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._] Is +that 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 take +the old fob. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly._] Thank you. I already _have_ a +prayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to the +others--trying to control his feelings._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation and +disappointment._] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in your +uncle. + +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 church +to 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. The +congregation sicked _you_ after him. Now that he's gone and you'll get +nothing more, they'll call you slow--slow and pokey. You'll see! You'll +see 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 my +words--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, will +take _your_ place. It's not what you _preach_ now that counts; it's what +you 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 no +denying that. There was a time when people had to go to church--they +weren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The church +needs 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 said +all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm--well--I shouldn't be +fit 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, pull +yourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!--I've +listened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up my +business for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not a +button! A bible. Still _I'm_ not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, +it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON _stirs the fire--a log falls out and the +flame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the night +approaches._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Turning on_ COLONEL LAWTON.] Oh, you've feathered your +nest, Colonel! You're a rich man. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Enraged, raising his voice._] What? I never came here +that _you_ weren't begging. + +FREDERIK. [_Virtuously--laying down the paper._] Well, I'm disgusted! When +I think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled out +money 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 the +money. + +FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the +whole town knew it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the +hour. + +FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why +not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had +the 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 you +this: 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 said +too much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything is +quiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Solemnly--breaking the pause._] Young man, it +might have been better had Mr. Grimm given his _all_ to charity--for he +has 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's +a light? We've been sitting in the dark like owls. Come in. [_A pause. He +strikes a match and holds it above his head. The light shows the open +door. 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 wind +puts out the match in_ FREDERIK'S _hand. The room is once more in +semi-darkness._] There ... it closed again ... [FREDERIK _strikes another +match 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 the +group of characters. She turns up the wick and _PETER GRIMM _is seen +standing in the room--half in shadow. He is as he was in life. The clothes +he wears appear to be those he wore about his house in the first act. He +carries his hat in his hand. He has the same kind smile, the same +deferential manner, but his face is more spiritual and years younger. The +lamp, which _CATHERINE_ has placed on the table, brightens the room._ + +PETER. [_Whose eyes never leave_ CATHERINE.] Yes ... I called you.... I've +come back. + +FREDERIK. [_To_ CATHERINE.] No. + +PETER. Don't be frightened, Katie. It's the most natural thing in the +world. 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 was +almost sure I heard him speak ... but, of course, as soon as I came in--I +remembered.... But some one must have called me. + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _stands looking at them, perplexed; not being able to comprehend as +yet 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._] For +heaven'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 at +the door._ + +CATHERINE. [_Pausing._] Perhaps it was the book I was reading that made me +think 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'll +be 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 his +mistake _now_. + +PETER. I can see several mistakes. [REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _rises and goes +towards 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 that +you can't see me. I wasn't pleased with my funeral sermon; it was very +gloomy--very. I never was so depressed in my life. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_To_ FREDERIK.] Do you know what I should like to say +to your uncle? + +PETER. I know. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I hope at least you'll care for the parish poor as +your uncle did--and keep on with _some_ of his charities. + +PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY'S _shoulder._] That's +all attended to. I arranged all that with Frederik. He must look after my +charities. + +FREDERIK. I might as well tell you now--you needn't look to me. It's Uncle +Peter's fault if your charities are cut off. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Half-doubtingly._] It doesn't seem possible that +he made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK _remains +stolid._ 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 his +overshoes, 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 matters +over--cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin._ + +PETER. [_Slipping his hand through_ COLONEL LAWTON'S _arm. They seem to +look each other in the eye._] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, I +should have made a will ... I--suppose it _is_ a little too late, isn't +it?... It would be--er--unusual to do it now, wouldn't it? + +COLONEL LAWTON, _who has heard nothing--seen nothing--moves away as +though_ PETER _had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for his +cape 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, I +suppose. It's not worth a penny. + +COLONEL LAWTON. I'm not so sure of that. They say there's a lot of money +paid 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 take +it off your hands. + +FREDERIK. I'll find out how much it's worth. I shall have everything +appraised. [_Sets his watch by the clock._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _gives him a +look and joins her husband at the door._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. Good-night. [_Exit, closing the door._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_As_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _goes out--calling after +him._] Henry, Catherine wants you to come back for supper. [MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room too disgusted for words._ FREDERIK _goes into +the office._ + +PETER. [_Now alone._] We live and learn ... and oh! what I have learned +since I came back.... [_He goes to his own particular peg in the vestibule +and hangs up his hat. He glances at the wedding presents. Presently he +sees the flowers which_ CATHERINE _has placed on the desk. With a smile, +he touches the flowers._ MARTA _enters with another lamp, which she places +on a table. As_ PETER'S _eyes rest on_ MARTA, _he nods and smiles in +recognition, waiting for a response._] Well, Marta?... Don't you know +your old master?... No?... No?... [_She winds the clock and leaves the +room._] I seem to be a stranger in my own house ... yet the watch-dog knew +me and wagged his tail as I came in. [_He stands trying to comprehend it +all._] Well! Well! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking at his watch, re-enters from the office and goes to +the 'phone, which presently rings._ FREDERIK _instantly lifts the receiver +as though not wishing to attract attention. In a low voice._] Yes ... I +was waiting for you. How are you, Mr. Hicks? [_Listens._] I'm not anxious +to 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 ... of +course in that case ... I might be tempted. To-morrow? No, I can't see you +to-morrow. I'm going to be married to-morrow, and leave at once for New +York. Thank you. [_Listens._] To-night? Very well, but I don't want it +known. 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 come +to-night?... Yes, yes.... [_Listens at the 'phone._] The dear old man told +you his plans never failed, eh? God rest his soul! [_Laughing +indulgently._] Ha! Ha! Ha! + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! + +FREDERIK. [_Echoing_ HICKS' _words._] What would he say if he knew? What +could he say? Everything must change. + +_A far-away rumble of thunder is heard--the lightning flickers at the +window and a flash is seen on the telephone which tinkles and responds as +though from the electric shock. Exclaiming "Ugh,"_ FREDERIK _drops the +receiver--which hangs down._ + +PETER. [_The storm passes as he speaks into the receiver without touching +the telephone._] Good-evening, my friend. We shall soon meet--face to +face. You won't be able to carry this matter through.... [_Looking into +space as though he could see the future._] You're not well and you're +going out to supper to-night; ... you will eat something that will cause +you to pass over.... I shall see you to-morrow.... A happy crossing! + +FREDERIK. [_Picks up the receiver._] Hello?... You don't feel well, you +say? [_Then echoing the purport of_ HICKS' _answer._] I see.... Your +lawyer can attend to everything to-night without you. Very well. It's +entirely a question of money, Mr. Hicks. Send your lawyer to the Grimm +Manor Hotel. I'll arrange at once for a room. Good-bye. [_Hangs up the +receiver._] That's off my mind. [_He lights a fresh cigarette--his face +expressing the satisfaction he feels in the prospect of a perfectly idle +future._ PETER _looks at him as though to say: "And that's the boy whom I +loved 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 he +could feel the presence of some one waiting there._] Yes ... I am still +in the house. Come in ... come in ... [_He repeats the signal of the first +act._] Ou--oo. [_The door opens slowly--and_ CATHERINE _enters as though +at_ PETER'S _call. She looks about her, not understanding. He holds out +his arms to her._ CATHERINE _walks slowly towards him. He takes her in his +arms, but she does not respond. She does not know that she is being +held._] There! There!... Don't worry.... It's all right.... We'll arrange +things very differently. I've come back to change all my plans. [_She +moves 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 love +for you outlive _me_? Isn't it here in the home?... Don't cry. [_She moves +about the room in thought. As_ PETER _watches her--she pauses near his +desk._ + +CATHERINE. [_Suddenly._] Crying doesn't help matters. + +PETER. She hears me. She doesn't know it, but she hears me. She's cheering +up. [_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 the +realization of her loss_, CATHERINE _sighs._ + +PETER. [_Correcting himself._] I--I mean--since I learned that there was a +happier place than the world I left.... I'm a trifle confused. I've not +had time to adjust myself to these new conditions. [CATHERINE _smiles +sadly--goes up to the window, and, leaning against the pane, looks out +into the night._ PETER _continues comfortingly._] The dead have never +really died, you know. We couldn't die if we tried. We're all about +you.... Look at the gardens: they've died, haven't they? But there they +are all the better for it. Death is the greatest thing in the world. It's +really a--Ha!--delightful experience. What is it, after all? A nap from +which we waken rested, refreshened ... a sleep from which we spring up +like 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 than +you--much younger. [_A conflict is going on in_ CATHERINE'S _mind. She +walks 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 what +you're thinking.... Katie, I want you to break that very foolish promise I +asked you to make. You're almost tempted to. Break it! Break it at once; +then--[_Glancing smilingly towards the door through which he came--as +though he wished to leave--like a child longing to go back to play._] then +I 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 her +mind._] You have a feeling ... an impression of what I'm saying; but the +words ... the words are not clear.... Mm ... let me see.... If you can't +understand 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 very +often ... and then, there's your mother. [_Suddenly remembering._] Oh, +yes, I had almost forgotten. I have a message for you, Katie.... [_He +seats himself in a chair which is almost in front of her._] I've met your +mother. [_She sits in a reverie._ PETER _continues with the air of a +returned traveller relating his experiences._] She heard that I had +crossed 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 interesting +experience. She knew me at once. "You were Peter Grimm," she said, "before +you knew better"--that's what _they_ call leaving _this_ world--"_to know +better_." 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 that +you had a happy home. I spoke of your future--of my plans for you and +Frederik. "Peter Grimm," she said, "you've over-looked the most important +thing in the world--love. You haven't given her _her right_ to the choice +of her lover--_her right_!" Then it came over me that I'd made a terrible +mistake ... and at that minute, you called to me. [_Impressively._] In the +darkness surrounding all I had left behind, there came a light ... a +glimmer where you stood ... a clear call in the night.... It seemed as +though I had not been away one second ... but in that second, you had +suffered.... Now I am back to show you the way.... I am here to put my +hand on your dear head and give you your mother's blessing; to say she +will be with you in spirit until she holds you in her arms--you and your +loved husband--[CATHERINE _turns in her chair and looks towards the door +of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _catches the thought._]-- +yes, James, it's you.... And the message ended in this kiss. [_Prints a +kiss 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 least +hope! Anybody can hope. + +CATHERINE _rises with an entire change of manner--takes a bright red +blossom from the vase on_ PETER'S _desk--then deliberately walks to the +door of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _follows her action +hopefully. She does not tap on the door, however, but turns and sits at +the piano--in thought--not facing the piano. She puts_ PETER'S _flowers +against her face. Then, laying the flowers on the piano, sings softly +three or four bars of the song she sang in the first act--and stops +abruptly._ + +CATHERINE. [_To herself._] That I should sit here singing--at a time like +this! + +PETER. Sing! Sing! Why not? Lift up your voice like a bird! Your old uncle +doesn'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 could +only 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--I +can tell you _that_. They'd do dreadful things to get away from this +existence--make for the nearest pond or--[_Pausing abruptly._] Ah, here +comes someone who'll know all about it! [_The_ DOCTOR _comes from_ +WILLIAM'S _room._ PETER _greets him in a cordial but casual way, as though +he 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 quite +understand him. + +PETER. I apologize. I said that if I could come back, I would; and here I +am--apologizing. Andrew! Andrew! [_Trying to attract_ DR. MACPHERSON'S +_attention._] I have a message, but I can't get it across. This is your +chance. 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 a +prescription with his fountain pen._] I'll leave this prescription at the +druggist's-- + +PETER. I'm quite shut out.... They've closed the door and turned the key +on me. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Suddenly noticing that_ CATHERINE _seems more +cheerful._] What's happened? I left you in tears and here you are--all +smiles. + +CATHERINE. Yes, I--I am happier--for some reason.... For the last few +minutes 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 very +short 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 both +occupy the same seats as in the first act._ + +PETER. The trouble is with other people, not with us. You want us to give +all sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while--very +poorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter--bless his heart! [_His elbow on the table +as though he had been thinking over the matter._ CATHERINE _sits quietly +listening._] If he kept that compact with me, and came back,--do you know +what I'd ask him first? If our work goes on. + +PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerably +since I crossed over. + +CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The question _every man wants the answer to_: what's to +become of me--_me_--_my work_? Am I going to be a bone setter in the next +life and he a tulip man?... I wonder. + +PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody--Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit told +me that sometimes our work _does_ go on; but he was an awful liar--you +knew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius is +simply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows his +business. Now then: [_Confidentially preparing to open an argument-- +sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act._] it stands to +reason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with a +fellow who knew his business before he was born? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Unconsciously grasping the thought._] I believe it is +possible to have more than one chance at our work. + +PETER. There ... you caught that.... Why can't you take my message to +Catherine? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising to get his shawl--gruffly._] Thought over what I +told 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 Peter +wished. 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 without +seeming to pull it._] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can always +change 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 coat +pocket._] 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 _and +facing_ CATHERINE.] Tc! Tc! Tc! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night. + +CATHERINE. Good-night. [CATHERINE _goes quietly to the fireplace, kneeling +down, mends the fire, and remains there sitting on an ottoman._ + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] If I could only make some sign--to +start you thinking; but I can't depend upon _you_, I see that.... [_Then +changing--as though he had an idea._] Ah, yes! There _is_ another way. Now +to work. [_With renewed activity, he taps in the direction of the office +door, although he himself stands three feet away from it. The door opens +promptly and_ JAMES _appears on the threshold--pen in hand--as though +something had made him rise suddenly from his desk._ CATHERINE, _still +seated, does not see_ JAMES, _who stands looking at her--remembering that +she is to be married on the following day._ PETER _tempts_ JAMES.] Yes, +she _is_ pretty, James ... young and lovely.... Look!... There are kisses +tangled in her hair where it curls ... hundreds of them.... Are you going +to let her go? Her lips are red with the red of youth. Every smile is an +invocation to life. Who could resist her smiles? Can you, James? No, you +will not let her go. And her hands, James.... Look! Hands made to clasp +and cling to yours. Imagine her little feet trudging happily about _your_ +home.... Look at her shoulders ... shaped for a resting-place for a little +head.... You were right, James, we should ask nothing of our girls but to +marry the men they love and be happy wives and happy mothers of happy +children. You feel what I am saying.... You couldn't live without her, +could you? No? Very well, then--[_Changing abruptly._] Now, it's your +turn. + +JAMES _pauses a moment. There is silence. Then he comes forward a step +and_ 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't +know 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 people +together, 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 luck +together. We're going to start with a small fruit farm. It will give me a +chance 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 just +before he went, he gave me his mother's wedding ring and asked me to marry +Frederik. I shall never forget how happy he was when I promised. That was +all he wanted. His last smile was for me ... and there he sat--still +smiling after he was gone ... the smile of a man leaving the world +perfectly 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 hereafter +if I didn't do everything he wished; I couldn't say my prayers at night; I +couldn't speak his name in them.... He trusted me; depended upon me; did +everything for me; so I must do this for him.... I wanted you to know +this, 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 like +you--in _that_ way.... God! He's rotten all the way through. He's even +worse 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't +know what!... [PETER _smiles._] I felt that I _must_ talk to you. You +looked so young, so helpless, such a child. You've never had to think for +yourself--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 where +you don't love. Why should you carry out your uncle's plans? You're going +to be wretched for life to please a dead man who doesn't know it; or, if +he 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 you +were of your uncle or how much he did for you--it wasn't right to ask this +of 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 I +think 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 I +had any hopes--I hadn't.... I haven't now.... [_Struck._] But in spite of +what I'm saying ... I don't know what makes me think that I ... I could +take 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 violently +propelled. In reality, she thinks that she is yielding to an impulse. As +she reaches him, she exclaims_ "No," _and turns back, but_ JAMES, _with +outstretched 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 stands +free of_ JAMES--_then turns and walks to the stairs._] Good-bye, Jim. + +JAMES. Do you mean it? Are you really going to sacrifice yourself because +of--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 in +his face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive._ + +FREDERIK. [_Throwing his hat and coat on a chair._] I have some work to +do--more of my uncle's unopened mail; then I'll join you, Hartman. We +must--er--make haste. + +JAMES _looks at_ CATHERINE, _then at_ FREDERIK. CATHERINE _gives him an +imploring 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 ceremony +to-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--opens +two letters--tears them up after barely glancing at them--then sees_ +CATHERINE _still standing at the foot of the stairs--her back to him. He +lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses +her._ + +CATHERINE. [_With a revulsion of feeling._] No! No! No! [_She covers her +face with her hands--trying to control herself._] Please!... Not now.... + +FREDERIK. Why not _now_? [_Suspiciously._] Has Hartman been talking to +you? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE _starts slowly up the +stairs._] Wait a moment, please.... [_As she retreats a step up the +stairs, he follows her._] Do you really imagine you--you care for that +fellow? + +CATHERINE. Don't--please. + +FREDERIK. I'm sorry to insist. Of course, I knew there was a sort of +school-girl attachment on your part; ... that you'd known each other since +childhood. I don't take it at all seriously. In three months, you'll +forget him. I must insist, however, that you do _not_ speak to him again +to-night. After to-morrow--after we are married--I'm quite sure that you +will not forget you are my wife, Catherine--my wife. + +CATHERINE. I sha'n't forget. [_She escapes into her room._ FREDERIK _goes +to 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 I +know you! [FREDERIK _is reading a letter._] You sit there opening a dead +man'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. Even +now it is overtaking you. Your hour has struck. [FREDERIK _takes up +another letter and begins to read it; then, as though disturbed by a +passing thought, he puts it down. As though perplexed by the condition of +his own mind, he ponders, his eyes resting unconsciously on_ PETER.] Your +hour has struck. + +FREDERIK. [_To himself._] What in the world is the matter with me +to-night? + +PETER. Read! + +FREDERIK. [_Has opened a long, narrow, blue envelope containing a letter +on 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 though +reading the letter in the air._] "Dear Mr. Grimm: I have not written +because 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 reads +aloud._] "Don't be too hard upon me.... I have gone hungry trying to save +a few pennies for him, but I never could; and now I see that I cannot hope +to have him back. William is far better off with you. I--" [_Hesitates._ + +PETER. [_Going back of the desk, standing behind_ FREDERIK'S _chair._] Go +on.... + +FREDERIK. "I wish that I might see him once again. Perhaps I could come +and 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 his +shoulder--then glances about._] I could have sworn somebody was looking +over my shoulder ... or had come in at the door ... or ... [_But seeing no +one--he continues._] "I met someone from home; ... if there is any truth +in the rumour of Catherine's marriage--it mustn't be, Mr. Grimm--it +mustn't be ... not to Frederik. For Frederik is my little boy's--" +[FREDERIK _gives a furtive glance upstairs at the door of the child's +room. Picks up the small picture which was in the envelope._] Her picture +... [_Turns it over--looks at the back--reads._] "For my boy, from +Annamarie." [FREDERIK, _conscious-stricken for the time being, bows his +head._ + +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 his +mother's pardon. Turn over a fresh page, that I may leave this house in +peace.... + +FREDERIK. [_Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leading +into the hall._] Who is at the door? Curious ... I thought I heard someone +at ... + +PETER. I am at the door--I, Peter Grimm! Annamarie is at the door--the +little girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchen +breaking her heart for some word. William is at the door--your own flesh +and 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 door +of your conscience, Frederik.... Don't keep us waiting, my boy. It's very +hard to kill the love I had for you. I long to love you again--to take you +back 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 back +her 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 of +her joy, her gratitude, her affection. It's worth living for, lad. Speak! +Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK _takes several steps--then turns +back to the desk. He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself,_ "Damn +the woman," _and sinks into his chair._] Frederik Grimm, stand up before +me! [FREDERIK _starts to rise, but changes his mind._] Stand up! [FREDERIK +_rises--not knowing why he has risen._ PETER _points an accusing finger +at_ FREDERIK.] Liar to the dead! Cheat, thief, hypocrite! You sha'n't have +my little girl. You only want her for a week, a day, an hour. I refuse. I +have come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest.... I +have come back.... You cannot drive me from your thoughts--I am there.... +[_Tapping his forehead, without touching it._] I am looking over your +shoulder ... in at the window ... under the door.... You are breathing me +in the air.... I am looking at your heart. [_He brings his clenched fist +down on the desk in answer to_ FREDERIK'S _gesture; but, despite the +seeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound._] Hear me! You shall hear +me! Hear me! [_Calling loudly._] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobody +hear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journey +been 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? Is +there no second chance in this world? + +FREDERIK. [_With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his +thoughts._] Psh! + +MARTA _enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small +cakes._ PETER, _who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog +craving 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, _deep +in thought, does not notice her._ PETER _points to the desk as though to +say, "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 about +to set on the desk._ + +PETER. [_Speaking in a hushed voice._] Marta, see what you have in your +hand ... that letter ... there ... read it.... Run to Catherine with it. +Read it from the house-tops.... The letter ... Look! There you have the +story 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 never +speak.... The letter for Catherine. + +MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to +look 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 his +black-bordered handkerchief._] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenly +here 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's +customs.... 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 ... that +Annamarie ... that there should be some message.... Every day I expect to +hear ... + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _gestures to_ MARTA--_pointing to the picture and letter, now +covered 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 the +letter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burning +pieces on a tray. As the flame dies out,_ FREDERIK _brushes the blackened +paper into the waste-basket._] There's an end to _that_! + +PETER _crouches near the basket--hovering over it, his hinds clasped +helplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to a +bedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not with +the blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying the +impression 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 sleeping +suit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before_ FREDERIK _sees +him._ 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 the +proper 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's +passing. [_He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breeze +sweeps through the room--bellies out the curtains and causes the lustres +to jingle on the mantel. Surprised._] No. It's almost dark. There's no +procession ... no shining horses.... [_Turning sadly away from the +window._] 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, in +retreating from him, unconsciously backs towards_ PETER.] Are you feeling +better? + +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; nobody +knows. + +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 explain +himself, 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 of +water, please? + +FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good for +little boys with fever. + +WILLIAM. [_Going towards the stairs._] Wish I could find a cold brook and +lie in it. [_Goes slowly up the stairs._ FREDERIK _would destroy the +pieces of the picture; but_ PETER _faces him as though forbidding him to +touch it, and, for the first time,_ FREDERIK _imagines he sees the +apparition of his uncle._ + +FREDERIK. [_In a very low voice--almost inaudibly._] My God! I thought I +saw ... [_Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of_ PETER _is +still before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweat +from his forehead._ WILLIAM, _hearing the door close, comes down stairs +and, 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 his +influence._ + +WILLIAM. Wish it _had_ been the circus music. + +PETER. You shall hear it all again. [_Gestures towards the plate of cakes +on the tray._] Come, William, here's something very nice. + +WILLIAM. [_Seeing the cakes._] Um! Cakes! [_He steals to the tray, looking +over his shoulder in fear of being caught._ + +PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to the +cakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me ... a very +important message?... + +_The circus music is heard._ WILLIAM _sits at the tray and_ PETER _seats +himself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours._ WILLIAM, +_being unconsciously coaxed by_ PETER, _is prevailed upon to choose the +biggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards_ PETER. + +WILLIAM. [_To himself._] Ha!... Think I am dreaming. [_Rubbing his little +stomach ecstatically._] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't any +cake. + +PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM _has taken another piece of cake +which he nibbles at--now holding a piece in each hand._] Pretty +substantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM _eats the +raisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl._] Don't hesitate, William. Sugar +won't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William--help +yourself. [WILLIAM _looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of_ +FREDERIK.] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he saw +me, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience--hallucination. +[WILLIAM _nibbles a lump of sugar._] Now, William, I have a message for +you. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats another +lump of sugar._] I see ... I can't expect to get any assistance from a boy +while his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM _empties the cream jug and +helps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out._] Now I'm going to +tell you something. [_Impressively._] You're a very lucky boy, William; I +congratulate you. Do you know why--of all this household--you are the only +one to help me?... This is the secret: in a little time--it won't be +long--you're going--[_As though he were imparting the most delightful +information._]--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 without +paying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb the +hill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there are +some little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin the +battle of life.... Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle.... +Like little moon moths,--they look in at the windows; they beat at the +panes; they see the lights of happy firesides--the lights of home; but +they 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 your +man's work begins,--you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! No +coarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world like +Frederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimming +of the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shall +know in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, ... tears such as +Katie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith--your +innocence,--you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!... "It is +well with the _child_." [WILLIAM _lays down the cake and, clasping his +hands, thinks._ PETER _answers his thoughts._] What? No--don't think of +it! 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 you +with sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM +_takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims_ "Hm!" _in a +satisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in his +chair._] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try to +understand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherine +that-- + +WILLIAM. [_Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap._] Take me back +with 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 my +hand ... [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 nothing +there. + +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 can +see 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 help +me 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 it +must be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circus +for nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone to +town?" + +PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Come +here, William [_He starts towards the desk._]; would you like to see +someone whom all little boys love--love more than anybody else in the +whole world? [PETER _is standing at the desk with his finger on the torn +pieces 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 in +little bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her to +everybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world did +she ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them to +thinking. + +WILLIAM. Yes. Let us show her to everybody. [_He sits and joins the pieces +under the guidance of_ PETER.] Annamarie ... Annamarie ... + +PETER. You remember many things, William ... things that happened when you +lived 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 things +tucked away in your childish brain,--things laid away in your mind like +toys upon a shelf. Come, pick them up and dust them off and bring them out +again. 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 speaking +to the picture._] I must put you together before _he_ comes back. [_He +fits the other pieces together_--PETER _trying to guide him. Presently_ +WILLIAM _hums as a child will when at play, singing the tune of "Uncle +Rat."_] "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 the +picture_. + +PETER. [_Finishing the verse_.] "A cup of tea." [_With a gesture as though +knocking 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--staring +at 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 front +of_ CATHERINE'S _door, it opens_. PETER _passes in and_ CATHERINE _comes +out_. + +CATHERINE. [_Astonished_.] Why, William! What are you doing here? + +WILLIAM. Miss Catherine! Come down! Come down! I have something to show +you. + +CATHERINE. [_Not coming down_.] No, dear--come upstairs; there's a good +boy. 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. Grimm +brought back with him. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Alarmed_.] What are you talking about, William? Old +Mr. 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. [_Comes +down 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 all +sorts 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 his +hand. It is evident that he has come over in a hurry._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Surprised._] I was just going for you. How fortunate +that 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 _cheek +and 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 this +room--that he was talking to him. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Interested._] Yes? Really? Well, possibly he is. Nothing +remarkable 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--looking +at_ WILLIAM.] I wonder if that boy's a sensitive. [_Hand on his chin._] I +wonder ... + +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 so +constituted 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 out +what ails William. William, what makes you think that Mr. Grimm is in this +room? + +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._] What +makes 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 to +you? + +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 show +you 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 heard +from 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 at +the truth. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. It's a new picture. She's much changed. How ever did it +find its way here? + +CATHERINE. I never saw it before. It's very strange.... We've all been +waiting 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 message +with it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I remember the day that picture came ... the day your +uncle 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 and +rushing about. It dropped to the floor and as I picked it up I thought I +knew the writing; but I couldn't remember whose it was.... It was directed +to your uncle.... [_Looking from the desk to the waste-basket._] There's +the envelope [_Holding up a scrap of blue envelope._] and paper; ... some +one 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 to +find out. You may draw the curtains, Catherine, if you please. [CATHERINE +_draws the curtains. The_ DOCTOR _turns the lights down and closes the +door. A pause._] Peter Grimm ... + +PETER. Yes, Andrew?... + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Not hearing._] If you have come back ... if you are in +the room ... and the boy speaks truly--give me some sign ... some +indication ... + +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 there +are great difficulties--will you try and send your message by William? I +presume 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 understand +perfectly. + +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 not +shutting his eyes. As though controlled by_ PETER.] There was Annamarie +and 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 lived +with 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 that +came to see-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Perplexed._] It can't be possible that the child knows +what he's talking about. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Ignoring her._] What did you tell Mr. Grimm when he +asked 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 afraid +now, William? + +WILLIAM. [_Looking towards the door._] N-no--but.... Please, please don't +let 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. _All +instinctively look towards the spot to which_ WILLIAM _points, but they +see no one._ + +PETER. [_Speaking slowly to the boy._] Catherine--must--not--marry +Frederik 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 make +Annamarie cry; ... he makes me cry ... + +CATHERINE. [_With suppressed excitement--half to herself._] Why are you +afraid 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'm +putting them together just as he put that picture together.... I must know +the 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. He +is taken unawares and for a few seconds he does not move--then he +recovers._ + +WILLIAM. Please don't let him scold me. I'm afraid of him. [_Going towards +the stairs--looking at_ FREDERIK.] I was afraid of him when I lived with +Annamarie 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 little +while 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 from +Annamarie.... [_Gestures towards the desk._ FREDERIK _sees the photograph +and 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 see +her, too. Why did you tell me that you'd never seen her since she went +away? 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 to +know what his mother was to you. I want the truth. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Who has been in thought--now looking up._] We've heard +the truth. We had that message from Peter Grimm himself. + +CATHERINE. Yes, it is true. I believe Uncle Peter Grimm was in this room +to-night. + +FREDERIK. [_Not surprised--glancing towards the spot where_ PETER _stood +when 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 right +to 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'll +take it back! + +PETER. [_Gently--smilingly--relieved._] I did give it back to you, my +dear; 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 first +act is now being used by the_ DOCTOR _for_ WILLIAM'S _medicines, two +bottles, 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 has +thought of going to bed._ FREDERIK _is waiting at the hotel for the lawyer +whom_ 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, is +seated before the fire, writing the account of_ PETER GRIMM'S _return, for +the American Branch of the "London Society for Psychical Research." It is +now a fine, clear night. The clouds are almost silvery and a hint of the +moon is showing._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Reading what he has written._] "To be forwarded to the +'London Society for Psychical Research': Dr. Hyslop: Dear Sir: This +evening at the residence of Peter--" [_Pauses and inserts "the late" and +continues to read after inserting the words._] "--the late Peter Grimm-- +the well-known horticulturist of Grimm Manor, New York, certain phenomena +were observed which would clearly indicate the return of Peter Grimm, ten +days after his decease. While he was invisible to all, three people were +present besides myself--one of these, a child of eight, who received the +message. 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, that +whichever went first was to return and give the other some sign; and I +propose to give positive proof--" [_He hesitates--thinks--then repeats._] +"positive proof that he kept this compact and that I assisted in the +carrying out of his instructions." + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Enters--evidently highly wrought up by the events of +the evening._] Who was that? Who knocked? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Telegram. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I thought perhaps Frederik had come back. Don't you +consider William much better? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mm ... + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear, dear! The scene that took place to-night has +completely upset me. [_The_ DOCTOR _takes up his pen and reads to +himself._] Well, Doctor: [_She pushes forward a chair and sits at the +other side of the table--facing him._] the breaking off of the engagement +is rather sudden, isn't it? We've been talking it over in the front +parlour, Mr. Batholommey and I. James has finished his work and has just +joined us. I suggest sending out a card--a neat card--saying that, owing +to the bereavement in the family, the wedding has been indefinitely +postponed. 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 very +strange to me--how is it going to look to other people; especially when we +haven't any--any rational explanation--as yet? We must get out of it in +some fashion. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Whose business is it? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Nobody's, of course. But Catherine's position is +certainly unusual; and the strangest part of it all is--she doesn't seem +to feel her situation. She's sitting alone in the library, seemingly +placid 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 be +interested. You might at least answer my question. + +DR. MACPHERSON. What chance have I had to answer? You've done all the +talking. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising--annoyed._] Oh, of course, all these little +matters sound trivial to you; but men like you couldn't look after the +workings of the _next_ world if other people didn't attend to _this_. Some +one has to do it. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I fully appreciate the fact, Mistress Batholommey, that +other 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 something +really 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 for +a moment to suggest that we suspend judgment until the information William +has 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 without +offering some explanation. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_At the 'phone._] Marget, I'm at Peter's. I mean--I'm at +the 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, I +shall 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's +mother for whom I am searching. [_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _smiles +faintly behind his hand._] Then I shall send in my report, and not until +then. What I wish to ask is this: would you have any objection to the name +of 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; but +wouldn't you like to bolster up your report with "the wife of a clergyman +who 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 a +minister's coat. _I_ think myself that you have _probably_ stumbled on the +truth 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 old +and he was with her until five--and five's the age of memory. Every +incident of his mother's life has lingered in his little mind. Supposing +you do find her and learn that it's all true: what do you prove? Simply +that _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 a +clergyman,--I'm just echoing what _everybody else_ thinks--don't you +believe 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--is +it healthy? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Well, Batholommey, religion has frequently led to the +stake, and I never heard of the Spanish Inquisition being called _healthy_ +for anybody taking part in it. Still, religion flourishes. But your +old-fashioned, unscientific, gilt, ginger-bread Heaven blew up ten years +ago--went out. My Heaven's just coming in. It's new. Dr. Funk and a lot of +the 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 that +no man can do. I made up my mind at twenty-one, and my Heaven is just +where 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 be +glad to see me, dear, won't you? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. My church mouse! [_He pats her cheek, kisses her +good-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 are +but air. We didn't see Peter Grimm and you know and I know and everybody +knows that _seeing_ is believing. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Looking up._] Damn everybody! It's everybody's ignorance +that 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 the +carrying 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 have +come to their senses. Catherine has, for one. I'm very glad to see you +back, 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. [_He +picks up the lamp from the_ DOCTOR'S _table and holds it so that he can +look searchingly in the direction of the desk to see if_ PETER'S +_apparition is still there. His eye is suddenly riveted on the telegram +resting 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 the +hotel.... [_Tries to go to the desk but cannot muster up courage._] I had +an appointment to meet a man who wanted to buy the gardens. I may as well +tell you, I'm thinking of selling out root and branch. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Amazed._] Selling out? Peter Grimm's gardens? So this is +the end of Peter's great work? + +FREDERIK. You'll think it strange, Doctor; but I--I simply can't make up +my mind to go near that old desk of my uncle's.... I have a perfect terror +of 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-drawn +breath._] Billy Hicks--the man I was to sell to--is dead.... [_Tosses the +telegram 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 ... whispered +it to me.... Doctor, as sure as you live--somebody else is doing my +thinking 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 ... [_Pointing +towards the desk._] there. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Eh?... + +FREDERIK. And just before I--I saw him--I--I had the ... the strangest +impulse to go to the foot of the stairs and call Kitty--give her the +house--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 of +the 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 of +notes._] Did you ever have this impulse before--to give up Catherine--to +let her have the cottage? + +FREDERIK. Not much, I hadn't. Certainly not. I told you someone else was +thinking for _me_. I don't want to give her up. It's folly! I've always +been fond of her. But if she has turned against me, I'm not going to sit +here and cry about it. I shall be up and off. [_Rising._] But I'll tell +you one thing: from this time, I propose to think for myself. I've taken a +room at the hotel and a few things for the night. I've done with this +house. I'd like to sell it along with the gardens, and let a stranger raze +it to the ground; but--[_Thinks as he looks towards the desk._] when I +walk out of here to-night--it's hers--she can have it. ... I wouldn't +sleep here.... I give her the home because ... + +DR. MACPHERSON. Because you don't believe anything; but you want to be on +the safe side in case he--[_Gesturing to desk._] was there. + +FREDERIK. [_Puzzled--awed--his voice almost dropping to a whisper._] How +do you account for it, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. It might have been an hallucination or perhaps you did see +him, though it could have been inflammation of conscience, Frederik: when +did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Angrily._] Haven't I told you already that I refuse to answer +any questions as to my-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I think it only fair to tell you that it won't make a +particle of difference whether you answer me or not. I have someone on the +track now--working from an old address; I've called in the detectives and +I'll find her, you may be sure of that. As long as I'm going to know it, I +may as well hear your side of it, too. When did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Sits--answers dully, mechanically, after a pause._] About +three 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 man +realizes 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 you +going to do for William? + +FREDERIK. Nothing. I'm a rich man now--and if I recognize him--he'll be at +me till the day he dies. His mother's gone to the dogs and under her +influence, the boy-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. Be silent, you damned young scoundrel. Oh! What an act of +charity if the good Lord took William, and I say it with all my heart. Out +of all you have--not a crumb for-- + +FREDERIK. I want you to know I've sweat for that money, and I'm going to +keep it! + +DR. MACPHERSON. _You've_ sweat for-- + +FREDERIK. [_Showing feeling._]--Yes! How do you think I got the money? I +went to jail for it--jail, jail. Every day I've been in this house has +been spent in prison. I've been doing time. Do you think it didn't get on +my nerves? I've gone to bed at nine o'clock and thought of what I was +missing in New York. I've got up at cock-crow to be in time for grace at +the breakfast table. I took charge of a class in Sabbath-school, and I +handed out the infernal cornucopias at the church Christmas tree, while he +played Santa Claus. What more can a fellow do to earn his money? Don't you +call that sweating? No, sir; I've danced like a damned hand-organ monkey +for the pennies he left me, and I had to grin and touch my hat and make +believe I liked it. Now I'm going to spend every cent for my own personal +pleasure. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Will rich men never learn wisdom! + +FREDERIK. [_Rising_.] No, they won't! But in every fourth generation there +comes along a _wise_ fellow--a spender who knows how to distribute the +money others have hoarded: I'm the spender. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Shame upon you and your like! Your breed should be +exterminated. + +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 more +questions. I'm done. Good-night, Doctor. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night and good-bye. [_With a look of disgust, he has +gone to the table, held a medicine bottle to the light to look at the +label 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 the +front door that she knows_ FREDERIK _has been in the room and has just +left the house_.] Burn up your wedding dress. We've made no mistake. I can +tell you _that_! [_Goes up the stairs to_ WILLIAM'S _room, taking the lamp +with him_. JAMES _has entered, and, taking_ CATHERINE'S _hand, holds it +for a moment_. + +JAMES. Good-night, Catherine. [_She turns and lays her hand on his +shoulder_. + +CATHERINE. I wonder, James, if _he_ can see us now. + +JAMES. That's the big mystery!... Who can tell? But any man who works with +flowers 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 the +morning.... Won't you ... see me to the door? + +CATHERINE. Yes ... yes.... [_They go up together,_ CATHERINE _carrying a +candle into the dark vestibule. The moment they disappear, a lamp standing +on the piano goes out as though the draught from the door or an unseen +hand had extinguished it. It is now quite dark outside, and the moon is +hidden for a moment. At the same time, a light, seemingly coming from +nowhere, reveals_ PETER GRIMM _standing in the room at the door--as though +he had been there when the young people passed out. He is smiling and +happy. The moon is not seen, but the light of it (as though it had come +out from behind a cloud) now reveals the old windmill. From outside the +door 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 his +hands in satisfaction--then listens--and after a second pause exclaims, +with an upraised finger, as though he were hearing the kiss._] Ah! Now I +can go.... [_He walks to the peg on which his hat hangs, and takes it +down. His work is done._ CATHERINE _re-enters, darting into the hall in +girlish 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 leans +against the door, candle-stick in hand--the wind has blown out the +candle._] Oh, I'm so happy! I'm so happy! + +PETER. Then good-night to you, my darling: love cannot say good-bye. [_She +goes to_ PETER'S _chair, and, sitting, thinks it all over--her hands +clasped in her lap--her face radiant with happiness._] Here in your +childhood's home I leave you. Here in the years to come, the way lies +clear before you. [_His arm upraised._] "_Lust in Rust_"--Pleasure and +Peace go with you. [CATHERINE _looks towards the door--remembering_ JAMES' +_kiss--half smiling._] [_Humorously._] Y--es; I saw you. I heard ... I +know.... Here on some sunny, blossoming day when, as a wife, you look out +upon my gardens--every flower and tree and shrub shall bloom enchanted to +your eyes.... All that happens--happens again. And if, at first, a little +knock of poverty taps at the door, and James finds the road hard and +steep--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 shall +see my plantings with new eyes, my Catherine,--when you explain each leaf +and bud to your little people--you will remember the time when _we_ walked +together through the leafy lanes and I taught you--even as you teach +them--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 stranger +who may take my name from off the gates,--what _is_ my name? Already it +grows faint to my ears. [_Lightly._] Yes, yes, yes, let others take my +work.... Why should _we_ care? All that happens, happens again. [_She +rests her elbow on the chair, half hides her face in her hand._] And never +forget this: I shall be waiting for you--I shall know all your life. I +shall adore your children and be their grandfather just as though I were +here; I shall find it hard not to laugh at them when they are bad, and I +shall 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 stockings +at Christmas, in a big, busy, teeming world of shadows just outside your +threshold, or whispering in the still noises of the night.... And oh! as +the years pass, [_Standing over her chair._] you cannot imagine what pride +I shall take in your comfortable middle life--the very _best_ age, I +think--when you two shall look out on your possessions arm in arm--and +take your well-earned comfort and ease. How I shall love to see you look +fondly at each other as you say: "Be happy, Jim--you've worked hard for +this;" or James says: "Take your comfort, little mother, let them all wait +upon _you--you_ waited upon _them_. Lean back in your carriage--you've +earned it!" And towards the end--[_Sitting on a chair by her side and +looking into her face._] after all the luxuries and vanities and +possessions cease to be so important--people return to very simple things, +dear. The evening of life comes bearing its own lamp. Then, perhaps, as a +little 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; asking +nothing more of life than the few hours to be spent with those you +love,... telling your grandchildren, at your knees, how much brighter the +flowers blossomed when _you_ were young. Ha! Ha! Ha! All that happens, +happens again.... And when, one glad day, glorified, radiant, young once +more, 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 over +her and caresses her hand._] good-night. [CATHERINE _rises and, going to +the desk, buries her face in the bunch of flowers placed there in memory +of_ 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_!" Pleasure +and Peace! Amen! [CATHERINE _passes into her room, the music dying away as +her door closes_. MARTA, _still wondering, goes to the clock and winds +it_.] Poor Marta! Every time she thinks of me, she winds my clock. We're +not quite forgotten. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Re-appears, carrying_ WILLIAM, _now wrapped up in an +old-fashioned Dutch patchwork quilt. The_ DOCTOR _has a lamp in his free +hand_.] 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. [_Goes +into the dining-room, leaving the door open_. + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] Good-night, Andrew. I'm afraid the +world will have to wait a little longer for the _big_ guesser. Drop in +often. 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 that +you were down here. [_Seeing_ PETER.] Oh, [_Raising himself to his knees +on the sofa_.] I see you _now_! + +PETER. Yes? [_There is an impressive pause and silence as they face each +other_. + +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 without +you. + +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--[_Lies +down happily_.] to take a nap first.... I'm sleepy. [_He pulls the +covering 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 cracking +of a whip is heard, and the blare of a clown's ten-cent tin horn. The +phantom voice of the_ CLOWN _(very faint) calls:_ + +CLOWN'S VOICE. Billy Miller's big show and monster circus is in town this +afternoon! Don't forget the date! Only one ring--no confusion. Circus day +comes but once a year, little sir. Come early and see the wild animals and +hear the lion roar-r-r! Mind, I shall expect _you!_ Wonderful troupe of +trained 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 ten +cents--one dime! + +_As these voices die away, the_ CLOWN, _whose voice indicates that he is +now 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 is +silence. Then three clear knocks sound on the door._ + +PETER. Come in.... [_The door opens. No one is there--but a faint path of +phosphorous light is seen._] Oh, friends! Troops of you! [_As though he +recognizes the unseen guests._] I've been gone so long that you came for +me, eh? I'm quite ready to go back. I'm just waiting for a happy little +fellow 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 face +beaming._ + +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, and +suddenly, 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. _The +light from the lamp on the table falls on the dead face of the child. Then +the_ DOCTOR _gently lays the boy down again on the couch, and sits +pondering 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-away +sky; 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 sing +together, 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 of +light. 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 the +curtain slowly descends. The air of the song is taken up by an unseen +orchestra and continues as the audience passes out._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Return of Peter Grimm, by David Belasco +Edited by Montrose J. Moses + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13319 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Return of Peter Grimm + +Author: David Belasco + Edited by Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: August 29, 2004 [EBook #13319] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Charles Bidwell and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + +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 side +of David Belasco. He has been privileged to hear expressed, by this Edison +of our stage, diverse opinions about plays and players of the past, and +about insurgent experiments of the immediate hour. He has always found a +man quickly responsive to the best memories of the past, an artist naively +childlike in his love of the theatre, shaped by old conventions and +modified by new inventions. Belasco is the one individual manager to-day +who has a workshop of his own; he is pre-eminently a creator, whereas his +contemporaries, like Charles Frohman, were emphatically manufacturers of +goods in the amusement line. + +Such a man is entitled to deep respect, for the "carry-on" spirit with +which he holds aloft the banner used by Boucicault, Wallack, Palmer, and +Daly. It is wrong to credit him with deafness to innovation, with +blindness to new combinations. He is neither of these. It is difficult to +find a manager more willing to take infinite pains for effect, with no +heed to the cost; it is impossible to place above him a director more +successful in creating atmosphere and in procuring unity of cooperation +from his staff. No one, unless it be Winthrop Ames, gives more personal +care to a production than David Belasco. Considering that he was reared in +the commercial theatre, his position is unique and distinctive. + +In the years to come, when students enter the Columbia University Dramatic +Museum, founded by Professor Brander Matthews, they will be able to judge, +from the model of the stage set for "Peter Grimm," exactly how far David +Belasco's much-talked-of realism went; they will rightly regard it as the +high point in accomplishment before the advent of the "new" scenery, whose +philosophy Belasco understands, but whose artistic spirit he cannot +accept. Maybe, by that time, there will be preserved for close examination +the manuscripts of Belasco's plays--models of thoroughness, of managerial +foresight. The present Editor had occasion once to go through these +typewritten copies; and there remains impressed on the memory the detailed +exposition in "The Darling of the Gods." Here was not only indicated every +shade of lighting, but the minute stage business for acting, revealing how +wholly the manager gave himself over to the creation of atmosphere. I +examined a mass of data--"boot plots," "light plots," "costume designs." +Were the play ever published in this form, while it might confuse the +general reader, it would enlighten the specialist. It would be a key to +realistic stage management, in which Belasco excels. Whether it be his own +play, or that of some outsider, with whom, in the final product, Belasco +always 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 is +most unfortunate that the stupendous record of his life's accomplishment +thus far, which, in two voluminous books, constituted the final labour of +the late William Winter, is not more truly reflective of the man and his +work. It fails to reproduce the flavour of the dramatic periods through +which Belasco passed, in his association with Dion Boucicault as private +secretary, in his work with James A. Herne at Baldwin's Theatre, in San +Francisco, in his pioneer realism at the old New York Madison Square +Theatre, when the Mallory Brothers were managers, Steele Mackaye was one +of the stock dramatists, Henry DeMille was getting ready for collaboration +with Belasco, Daniel Frohman was house-manager and Charles Frohman was out +on the road, trying his abilities as advance-man for Wallack and Madison +Square successes. Winter's life is orderly and matter-of-fact; Belasco's +real 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 magazine +reminiscences, which, if they are lacking in exact sequence, are measure +of 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--a +combine of managers that feared the advent of so individualistic a +playwright 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 on +vagaries. Whatever Belasco has touched since his days of apprenticeship in +San Francisco, he has succeeded in imposing upon it what is popularly +called "the Belasco atmosphere." Though he had done a staggering amount of +work before coming to New York, and though, when he went to the Lyceum +Theatre, he and Henry DeMille won reputation by collaborating in "The +Wife," "Lord Chumley," "The Charity Ball," and "Men and Women," he was +probably first individualized in the minds of present-day theatregoers +when Mrs. Leslie Carter made a sensational swing across stage, holding on +to the clapper of a bell in "The Heart of Maryland." Even thus early, he +was displaying characteristics for which, in later days, he remained +unexcelled. He was helping Bronson Howard to touch up "Baron Rudolph," +"The Banker's Daughter" and "The Young Mrs. Winthrop;" he was succeeding +with a dramatization of H. Rider Haggard's "She," where William Gillette +had failed in the attempt. + +"The Heart of Maryland" established both Belasco and Mrs. Carter. Then he +started on that extravagant period of spectacular drama, which gave to the +stage such memorable pictures as "Du Barry," with Mrs. Carter, and "The +Darling of the Gods," with Blanche Bates. In such pieces he literally +threw away the possibilities of profit, in order to gratify his decorative +sense. Out of that time came two distinctive pieces--one, the exquisitely +poignant "Madame Butterfly" and the other, "The Girl of the Golden West"-- +both giving inspiration to the composer, Puccini, who discovered that a +Belasco play was better suited for the purposes of colourful Italian opera +than any other American dramas he examined. + +Counting his western vicissitudes as one period, and the early New York +days as a second, one might say that in the third period David Belasco +exhibited those excellences and limitations which were thereafter to mark +him and shape all his work. There is an Oriental love of colour and effect +in all he does; but there is no monotony about it. "The Darling of the +Gods" was different from "The Girl of the Golden West," and both were +distinct from "The Rose of the Rancho." It is this scenic decorativeness +which has enriched many a slim piece, accepted by him for presentation, +and such a play has always been given that care and attention which has +turned it eventually into a Belasco "offering." None of his collaborators +will gainsay this genius of his. John Luther Long's novel was unerringly +dramatized; Richard Walton Tully, when he left the Belasco fold, imitated +the Belasco manner, in "The Bird of Paradise" and "Omar, the Tentmaker." +And that same ability Belasco possesses to dissect the heart of a romantic +piece was carried by him into war drama, and into parlour comedies, and +plays of business condition. I doubt whether "The Auctioneer" would read +well, or, for the matter of that, "The Music Master;" Charles Klein has +written 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 he +saw them fitted to the unique figure of David Warfield. + +But a Belasco success is furthered by the tremendous public curiosity that +follows him in all he does. There is a wizardry about him which +fascinates, and makes excellent reading in the press. Long before I saw +the three-winged screen upon which it is his custom to sort out and pin up +his random notes for a play, it was featured in the press. So were +pictures of his "collection," in rooms adjoining his studio--especially +his Napoleonic treasures which are a by-product of his Du Barry days. No +man of the theatre is more constantly on the job than he. It is said that +old John Dee, the famous astrologer whom Queen Elizabeth so often +consulted, produced plays when he was a student at Cambridge University, +with stage effects which only one gifted in the secrets of magic could +have consummated. Belasco paints with an electric switchboard, until the +emotion of his play is unmistakably impressed upon the eye. At a moment's +notice he will root out his proscenium arch, and build a "frame" which +obliterates the footlights; at another time he will build an "apron" to +his stage, not for its historical significance, but merely to give depth +and mellowness to such an ecclesiastical picture as Knoblauch's +"Marie-Odile." He has spent whole nights alone in the theatre auditorium +with his electrician, "feeling" for the "siesta" somnolence which carried +his audience instantly into the Spanish heat of old California, in "The +Rose of the Rancho;" and the moving scenery which took the onlooker from +the foot-hills of the Sierras to the cabin of "The Girl of the Golden +West" 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 the +value of elimination; the eye of the observer is often worried by the +multiplicity of detail, where reticence would have been more quickly +effective. This is the Oriental in Belasco. His is a strange blend of +realism and decorativeness. + +"A young man came to me once," he said to me, "with the manuscript of a +new play, which had possibilities in it. But after I had talked with him +awhile, I found him preaching the doctrines of the 'new' art. So I said to +him, 'My dear sir, here is your manuscript. The first scene calls for a +tenement-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 "all +is a matter of proportion and nothing to do with actuality." + +"I felt," Mr. Belasco continued, "that the young man would find difficulty +in reconciling the nebulous perspectives of Mr. Craig with the squalor of +a city block. I said to him, 'I have been producing for many years, and I +have mounted various plays calling for differing atmospheres. I don't want +to destroy your ideals regarding the 'new art', but I want you to realize +that a manager has to conform his taste to the material he has in hand. I +consider that one of the most truthful sets I have ever had on the stage +was the one for the second act of Eugene Walter's 'The Easiest Way'. A +boarding-house room on the top floor cannot be treated in any other way +than as a boarding-house room. And should I take liberties with what we +know 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 there +is no suggestion in realism; it is unwise to clutter the stage with +needless detail. But we cannot idealize a little sordid ice-box where a +working girl keeps her miserable supper; we cannot symbolize a broken jug +standing in a wash-basin of loud design. Those are the necessary evils of +a 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 would +have been an Elizabethan heart and soul. But his habit is formed as a +producer, and he conforms the "new" art to this habit as completely as +Reinhardt Reinhardtized the morality play, "Everyman," or Von Hofmannsthal +Teutonized "Elektra." + +"The Return of Peter Grimm" has been chosen for the present collection. It +represents a Belasco interest and conviction greater than are to be found +in any of his other plays. While there are no specific claims made for the +fact that_ PETER _materializes after his death, it is written with +plausibility and great care. The psychic phenomena are treated as though +real, and our sympathy for_ PETER _when he returns is a human sympathy for +the inability of a spirit to get his message across. The theme is not +etherealized; one does not see through a mist dimly. There was not even an +attempt, in the stage production of the piece, which occurred at the +Belasco Theatre, New York, on October 17, 1911, to use the "trick" of +gauze and queer lights; there was only one supreme thing done--to make the +audience feel that_ PETER _was on a plane far removed from the physical, +by the ease and naturalness with which he slipped past objects, looked +through people, and was unheeded by those whom he most wanted to +influence. The remarkable unity of idea sustained by Mr. Belasco as +manager, and by Mr. Warfield as actor, was largely instrumental in making +the play a triumph. The playwright did not attempt to create supernatural +mood; he did not resort to natural tricks such as Maeterlinck used in +"L'Intruse," or as Mansfield employed in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." He +reduced what to us seems, at the present moment, a complicated explanation +of a psychic condition to its simple terms, and there was nothing strange +to the eye or unusual in the situation. One cannot approach the theme of +the psychic without a personal concern. Sardou's "Spiritisme" was the +culmination of years of investigation; the subject was one with which +Belasco likewise has had much to do during the past years. + +It is a privilege to be able to publish "Peter Grimm." Thus far not many +of the Belasco plays are available in reading form. "May Blossom" and +"Madame Butterfly" are the only ones. "Peter Grimm" has been novelized--in +the day, now fortunately past, when a play was novelized in preference to +perpetuating its legitimate form. And excerpts from the dialogue have been +used. But this is the first time the complete text has appeared and it has +been carefully edited by the author himself. In addition to which Mr. +Belasco has written the following account of "Peter's" evolution, to be +used in this edition. + + +The play, "The Return of Peter Grimm," is an expression in dramatic +form of my ideas on a subject which I have pondered over since +boyhood: "Can the dead come back?" _Peter Grimm_ did come back. At +the same time, I inserted a note in my program to say that I +advanced no positive opinion; that the treatment of the play allowed +the audience to believe that it had actually seen _Peter_, or that +he had not been seen but existed merely in the minds of the +characters on the stage. Spiritualists from all over the country +flocked to see "The Return of Peter Grimm," and I have heard that it +gave comfort to many. It was a difficult theme, and more than once I +was tempted to give it up. But since it has given relief to those +who have loved and lost, it was not written in vain. Victorian +Sardou dealt with the same subject, but he did not show the return +of the dead; instead, he delivered a spirit message by means of +knocking on a table. His play was not a success, and I was warned by +my friends to let the subject alone; but it is a subject that I +never can or never have let alone; yet I never went to a medium in +my 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. Although +mediums have been exposed since the beginning of time, and so-called +"spiritualism" has fallen into disrepute over and over again, it +emerges triumphantly in spite of charlatans, and once more becomes +the theme of the hour. + +The subject first interested me when, as a boy, I read a story in +which the dead "foretold dangers to loved ones." My mother had +"premonitions" which were very remarkable, and I was convinced, at +the time, that the dead gave these messages to her. She personally +could not account for them. I probably owe my life to one of my +mother's premonitions. I was going on a steamboat excursion with my +school friends, when my mother had a strong presentiment of danger, +and begged me not to go. She gave in to my entreaties, however, much +against her will. Just as the boat was about to leave the pier, a +vision of her pale face and tear-filled eyes came to me. I heard her +voice repeating, "I wish you would not go, Davy." The influence was +so strong that I dashed down the gang-plank as it was being pulled +in. The boat met with disaster, and many of the children were killed +or wounded. These premonitions have also come to me, but I do not +believe as I did when a boy that they are warnings from the dead, +although I cannot explain them, and they are never wrong; the +message is always very clear. + +My mother convinced me that the dead come back by coming to me at +the 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 to +me. She seemed to be clothed in white. She repeated my name over and +over--the name she called me in my boyhood: "Davy! Davy!" She told +me not to grieve--that she was dying; that she _had_ to see me. I +distinctly saw her and heard her speak. + +She was in San Francisco at the time--I, in New York. After she +passed out of the room, I roused my family and told what I had heard +and seen. I said: "My mother is dead. I know she is dead;" but I +could not convince my family that I had not been dreaming. I was +very restless--could not sleep again. The next day (we were +rehearsing "Zaza") I went out for luncheon during the recess with a +member of my company. He was a very absent-minded man, and at the +table he took a telegram from his pocket which he said he had +forgotten to give me: it announced the death of my mother at the +time I had seen her in my room. I am aware that this could be +explained as thought transference, accompanied by a dream in which +my mother appeared so life-like as to make me believe the dream +real. This explanation, however, does not satisfy me. I am sure that +I did see her. Other experiences of a kindred nature served to +strengthen my belief in the naturalness of what we call the +supernatural. I decided to write a play dealing with the return of +the dead: so it followed that when I was in need of a new play for +David Warfield, I chose this subject. Slight of figure, unworldly, +simple in all his ways, Warfield was the very man to bring a message +back from the other world. Warfield has always appeared to me as a +character out of one of Grimm's Fairy Tales. He was, to my mind, the +one man to impersonate a spirit and make it seem real. So my desire +to write a play of the dead, and my belief in Warfield's artistry +culminated in "The Return of Peter Grimm." The subject was very +difficult, and the greatest problem confronting me was to preserve +the illusion of a spirit while actually using a living person. The +apparition of the ghost in "Hamlet" and in "Macbeth," the spirits +who return to haunt _Richard III_, and other ghosts of the theatre +convinced me that green lights and dark stages with spot-lights +would not give the illusion necessary to this play. All other +spirits have been visible to someone on the stage, but_ PETER _was +visible to none, save the dog (who wagged his tail as his master +returned from the next world) and to _Frederik_, the nephew, who was +to see him but for a second._ PETER _was to be in the same room with +the members of the household, and to come into close contact with +them. They were to feel his influence without seeing him. He was to +move among them, even appear to touch them, but they were to look +past him or above him--never into his face. He must, of course, be +visible to the audience. My problem, then, was to reveal a dead man +worrying about his earthly home, trying to enlist the aid of +anybody--everybody--to take his message. Certainly no writer ever +chose a more difficult task; I must say that I was often very much +discouraged, but something held me to the work in spite of myself. +The choice of an occupation for my leading character was very +limited. I gave_ PETER _various trades and professions, none of +which seemed to suit the part, until I made him a quaint old +Dutchman, a nursery-man who loved his garden and perennials--the +flowers that pass away and return season after season. This gave a +clue to his character; gave him the right to found his belief in +immortality 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 the +play in the month of April; April with its swift transitions from +bright sunlight to the darkness of passing clouds and showers. April +weather furnished a natural reason for raising and lowering the +lights--that the dead could come and go at will, seen or unseen. The +passing rain-storms blended with the tears of those weeping for +their loved ones. A man who comes back must not have a commonplace +name--a name suggestive of comedy--and I think I must have read over +every Dutch name that ever came out of Holland before I selected the +name 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 was +a 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 be +dear to all old-fashioned, home-loving people--unlike a room of the +present, from which every memento of parents and grand-parents would +be banished in favour of strictly modern or antique formal +furniture. In this room, the things of _Peter's_ father mingled with +those of _Peter's_ boyhood and young manhood. This was done in order +that the influence of his familiar belongings might be felt by the +people 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 any +of the familiar objects dear to her because of their associations,_ +PETER _was brought vividly back to her mind, although she could not +see him. + +_Peter's_ clothing was selected with unusual care so that it would +not catch the reflection from the lights. Months of preparation and +weeks 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 been +to me more than mere illumination. It is a revelation of the heart +and soul of the story. It points the way. Lights should be to the +play what the musical accompaniment is to the singer. A wordless +story could be told by lights. Lights should be mixed as a painter +mixes his colours--a bit of pink here, of blue there; a touch of +red, a lavender or a deep purple, with shadows intervening to give +the desired effect. Instead of throwing a mysterious light upon the +figure of _Peter_, I decided to reverse the process and put no +lights on him. The light was on the other people--the people still +in life, with just enough amber to give them colour. + +The play was cut and cut until there was not a superfluous line in +it. Every word was necessary, although it might not have seemed so +when read. It was only after the play was recalled as a whole, that +the necessity for everything could be seen. The coming of the circus +with the clown singing "Uncle Rat has come to town," and the noise +of the drums, are instances of this. It seemed like halting the +action to bring in a country circus procession, but its necessity is +shown in the final scene when the little boy, _William_, passes +away. It is always cruel to see a child die on the stage. The +purpose of the coming of the circus was to provide a pleasant memory +for the child to recall as his mind wandered away from earth, and to +have his death a happy one. This was made more effective when Peter +took up the refrain of the song as though he knew what was passing +in the dying boy's mind, showing that the dead have their own world +and their own understanding. + +No company of players ever had situations so fraught with danger of +failure. They were very nervous. Mr. Warfield appeared in the part +for several weeks before he felt at ease as the living man who +returns as his own spirit. + +There is one memory associated with the play which will remain in my +heart as long as it beats. This piece was written during the last +year-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 know +it. When the manuscript was finished, she kept it by her side, and, +notwithstanding her illness, saw the dress rehearsal. During the +writing of the play, she often said, "Yes, father, it is all true. I +believe every word of it." It was as though the thought embodied in +the play gave her comfort. When we discovered how ill she was, I +took her to Asheville, North Carolina, thinking the climate would +help her. She grew worse. Still hoping, we went to Colorado, and +there I lost her. + +It has seemed to me since that the inspiration compelling me to go +on with "Peter Grimm," in spite of its difficulties, came from this +daughter who died. + +I cannot close this reminiscence of "The Return of Peter Grimm" +without acknowledging the help and inspiration received from David +Warfield, without whose genius and personality the play would not +have been possible. + + +I doubt whether Mr. Belasco has ever infused so much imaginative ingenuity +into the structure and picture of a play. Even in the reading, its quaint +charm is instantly revealed. We quite agree with Winter in saying that the +effectiveness of the role of_ PETER _lies in its simplicity. This was the +triumph of Warfield's interpretation. It may have been difficult to attain +the desired effects, but once reached, technical skill did the rest. It +will be noted on the program that credit is given for an idea to Mr. Cecil +DeMille, son of Mr. Belasco's former collaborator. "The Return of Peter +Grimm" was scheduled for production in London by Sir Herbert Tree, but +plans were cut short by that actor's sudden death, July 2, 1917. + +Mr. Belasco's interest in the psychic and the supernatural has been seen +in other plays, notably in "The Case of Becky," by Edward Locke, and in +Henry Bernstein's "The Secret"--example of Belasco's most skilled +adaptation from the French, though we remember the excellence of his +version of Berton and Simon's "Zaza." That he thought Warfield admirably +suited to this type of play was one of the chief incentives which +prompted 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 given +in New York.[A] + +[Footnote A: Some of Mr. Belasco's recent opinions regarding the stage +have been published in book form, under the title, "The Theatre through +its Stage Door" (Harper).] + + +[Illustration: BELASCO THEATRE + +FORTY FOURTH STREET near BROADWAY +Under the Sole Management of DAVID BELASCO + +BEGINNING TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 17, 1911. +Matinees Thursday and Saturday. + +DAVID BELASCO +Presents +DAVID 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 thing +that tells in the long run; nothing else endures to the end." + +CAST OF CHARACTERS. + +PETER GRIMM..................................DAVID WARFIELD +FREDERIK, his nephew.........................JOHN SAINPOLIS +JAMES HARTMAN................................THOMAS MEIGHAN +ANDREW MacPHERSON............................JOSEPH BRENNAN +REV. HENRY BATHOLOMMEY.........................WILLIAM BOAG +COLONEL TOM LAWTON...........................JOHN F. WEBBER +WILLEM.........................................PERCY HELTON +KATHRIEN.......................................JANET DUNBAR +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY................................MARIE BATES +MARTA.......................................MARIE REICHARDT +THE 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 at +Grimm Manor, a small town in New York State, founded by early settlers +from Holland. + +The first act takes place at eleven o'clock in the morning, on a fine +spring day. + +The second act passes ten days later, towards the close of a rainy +afternoon. + +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 the +probability of the return of the main character of this play. For the +many, it may be said that he could exist only in the minds of the +characters grouped about him--in their subconscious memories. For _the +few_, his presence will embody the theory of the survival of persistent +personal energy. This character has, so far as possible, been treated to +accord with either thought. The initial idea of the play was first +suggested as a dramatic possibility by Mr. Cecil DeMille, to whom Mr. +Belasco acknowledges his indebtedness. A conversation with Professor +James, of Harvard, and the works of Professor Hyslop of the American +branch 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 granting +permission to include "The Return of Peter Grimm" in the present +Collection. All its rights are fully secured, and proceedings will +immediately be taken against any one attempting to infringe them.] + + +ACT I. + +_The scene shows a comfortable living-room in an old house. The furniture +was brought to America by _PETER GRIMM'S_ ancestors. The _GRIMMS_ were, +for the most part, frugal people, but two or three fine paintings have +been inherited by _PETER_. + +_A small, old-fashioned piano stands near the open window, a few +comfortable chairs, a desk with a hanging lamp above it, and an arm-chair +in front of it, a quaint old fireplace, a Dutch wall clock with weights, a +sofa, 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 a +table. 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. "Peter +Grimm's Botanic Gardens" supply seeds, plants, shrubbery and trees to the +wholesale, as well as retail trade, and the view suggests the importance +of the industry. An old Dutch windmill, erected by a Colonial ancestor, +gives a quaint touch, to the picture. Although _PETER GRIMM_ is a very +wealthy man, he lives as simply as his ancestors._ + +_As the curtain is raised, the room is empty; but _CATHERINE_ is +heard singing in the dining-room. _JAMES HARTMAN, PETER'S_ secretary, +opens his door to listen, a small bundle of letters in his +hand. 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 into +the office, leaving the door ajar. Presently _CATHERINE_ enters. In +spite of her youth and girlish appearance, she is a good, thrifty +housekeeper. She wears a simple summer gown, and carries a +bunch of gay tulips and an old silver pitcher, from which she presently +pours water into the Harlequin Delft vase on _PETER GRIMM'S_ desk. She +peeps 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 done +outside work and I prefer it; but I would shovel dirt rather than work for +any one else. + +CATHERINE. [_Amused._] James! + +JAMES. It's true. When the train reached the Junction, and a boy presented +the passengers with the usual flower and the "compliments of Peter +Grimm"--it took me back to the time when that was my job; and when I saw +the old sign, "Grimm's Botanic Gardens and Nurseries"--I wanted to jump +off the train and run through the grounds. It seemed as though every tulip +called "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 the +dirt in overalls--a gardener--all his life; and, of course, he +over-estimates an education. He's far more intelligent than most of our +college professors. + +CATHERINE. I understand why you came back. You simply must live where +things grow, mustn't you, James? So must I. Have you seen our orchids? + +JAMES. Orchids are pretty; but they're doing wonderful things with +potatoes these days. I'd rather improve the breed of a squash than to have +an orchid named after me. Wonderful discovery of Luther Burbank's-- +creating an edible cactus. Sometimes I feel bitter thinking what I might +have done with vegetables, when I was wasting time studying Greek. + +CATHERINE. [_Changing suddenly._] James: why don't you try to please Uncle +Peter Grimm? + +JAMES. I do; but he is always asking my opinion, and when I give it, he +blows up. + +CATHERINE. [_Coaxingly._] Don't be quite so blunt. Try to be like one of +the 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's +good to see you again. + +_He is still holding her hand when _FREDERIK GRIMM_ enters. He is the son +of _PETER'S_ dead sister, and has been educated by_ PETER _to carry on his +work. He is a graduate of Amsterdam College, Holland, and, in appearance +and manner, suggests the foreign student. He has managed to pull through +college creditably, making a specialty of botany._ PETER _has given him +the usual trip through Europe, and_ FREDERIK _has come to his rich uncle +to settle down and learn his business. He has been an inmate of the +household for a few months. He poses as a most industrious young man, but +is, at heart, a shirker._ + +FREDERIK. Where's Uncle? + +JAMES. Good-morning, Frederik. Your uncle's watching father spray the plum +trees. The black knot's after them again. + +FREDERIK. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Uncle wakes me up every morning +at five--creaking down the old stairs. [_Eyeing_ CATHERINE _admiringly._] +You're looking uncommonly pretty this morning, Kitty. [CATHERINE _edges +away and runs upstairs to her room._ + +FREDERIK. Hartman! + +JAMES. Yes? + +FREDERIK. Miss Catherine and you and I are no longer children--our +positions are altered--please remember that. I'm no longer a student home +for the holidays from Amsterdam College. I'm here to learn the business +which I am expected to carry on. Miss Catherine is a young lady now, and +my uncle looks upon her as his daughter. You are here as my uncle's +secretary. 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 in +our 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. I +am 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 on +the 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's +changing foliage with the years. + +FREDERIK. He's growing as old-fashioned as his hats. In my opinion, this +would be the time to sell. + +JAMES. [_Astonished._] Sell? Sell a business that has been in his family +for--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 from +Hicks, 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 the +peach orchard: "Johann Grimm, of Holland, an upright settler." There isn't +a 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--a +peddler 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--he +certainly knows his business. [_Changing._] God! It's an awful thought +that 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 dress +in the past thirty years. His clothing, collar, tie, hat and shoes are all +old-fashioned. He is an estimable man, scrupulously honest, gentle and +sympathetic; 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 in +our mid-summer floral almanac. + +PETER. [_Who has hung up his hat on his own particular peg, affably +assenting._] 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._] We +mustn'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 little +private room with James, or when I've slipped out to the hothouses,--you +are representing me in the offices--_young_ Mr. Grimm.... James, are you +ready for me? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. I'll attend to the mail in a moment. [_Missing_ CATHERINE, _he +calls according to the household signal._] Ou--oo! [_He is answered by_ +CATHERINE, _who immediately appears from her room, and comes running +downstairs._] Catherine, I have news for you. I've named the new rose +after you: "Katie--a hardy bloomer." It's as red as the ribbon in your +hair. + +CATHERINE. Thank you, Uncle Peter, thank you very much. And now you must +have 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 give +you 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 husband +would you prefer? + +CATHERINE. [_Annoyed,--with girlish impatience._] You're always speaking +of 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, my +grandmother's linen-chest upstairs must be used again for you +[_Impulsively drawing_ CATHERINE _to him._], my house fairy. [_Kisses +her._] There, I mustn't tease her. But I leave it to Fritz if I don't owe +her 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_ do +everything for _me_. + +PETER. Ah, but who lays out my linen? Who puts flowers on my desk every +day? Who gets up at dawn to eat breakfast with me? Who sees that I have my +second cup of coffee? But better than all that--who brings youth into my +old house? + +CATHERINE. That's not much--youth. + +PETER. No? We'll leave it to Fritz. [FREDERIK, _amused, listens in +silence._] What should I be now--a rough old fellow--a bachelor--without +youth in my house, eh? God knows! Katie has softened me towards all the +ladies--er--mellowed me as time has mellowed my old pictures. [_Points to +pictures._] And I was growing hard--hard and fussy. + +CATHERINE. [_Laughing._] Ah, Uncle Peter, have I made you take a liking to +all the rest of the ladies? + +PETER. Yes. It's just as it is when you have a pet: you like all that +breed. You can only see _your_ kind of kitten. + +JAMES. [_Coming down a step, impressed by_ PETER'S _remark--speaking +earnestly._] That's so, sir. [_The others are surprised._] I hadn't +thought of it in that way, but it's true. You study a girl for the first +time, and presently you notice the same little traits in every one of +them. It makes you feel differently towards all the rest. + +PETER. [_Amused._] Why, James, what do you know about girls? "Bachelor" is +stamped 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 order +a three-rib roast, who's to eat it? I never had a proper roast until Katie +and Frederik came to make up my family; [_Rubbing his hands._] but the +roasts are not big enough. [_Giving_ FREDERIK _a knowing look._] We must +find 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 the +plates 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, the +gardens 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. [_Then +changing._] Is it--er--a good offer? Is Hicks willing to make it worth +while? [_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 should +say not! + +FREDERIK. Mere curiosity on my part, that's all. + +PETER. Of course, I understand. Sell out? No indeed. We are thinking of +the next generation. + +FREDERIK. Certainly, sir. + +PETER. We're the last of the family. The business--that's Peter Grimm. It +will 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 our +new 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 Quassick +Creek, New York State, Johann Grimm, aged twenty-two, husbandman and +vine-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 almost +suffused--repeating each word to himself, as she reads. He has lived over +each generation down to the present and nods in approval as she reaches +this point._] The foundation of our house. And here we are prosperous and +flourishing--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 in +the book. [_To_ CATHERINE _--slyly--as she closes the book._] If my sister +could see Frederik, what a proud mother she would be! + +JAMES. [_Turning from the 'phone to_ PETER.] Old man Hicks himself has +come 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 plum +trees? [_Listens._] Bad, eh? Well, we can only pray and use Bordeaux +Mixture.... No.... Nonsense! This business has been in my family for seven +generations. Why sell? I'll see that it stays in the family seven +generations longer! [_Echoing._] Do I propose to live that long? N--no; +but my plans will. [_Looks towards_ FREDERIK _and_ CATHERINE.] How? Never +mind. 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--standing +with the pot in his hands._] And remember the saying: [_A twinkle in his +upraised eyes._] "Thou, O God, sellest all good things at the price of +labour." [_Smells the tulips and sets them down._ + +FREDERIK. [_Goes briskly towards the door._] That's true, sir. I want to +speak to you later, Uncle--[_Turning, looking at_ JAMES.] on a private +matter. [_He goes off looking at his watch, as though he had a hard day's +work before him._ + +PETER. [_Looking after_ FREDERIK.] Very capable young fellow, Frederik. I +was a happy man, James, when I heard that he had won the prize for botany +at 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 to +James. We used to have him to dinner very often before he went away. Now +that 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, will +you 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._] Fresh +green herbs in the dressing and a Figaro pudding. Marta brought over that +pudding receipt from Holland. + +MARTA, _an old family servant, has entered with the air of having +forgotten to wind the clock. She smiles happily at_ PETER'S _allusion to +her 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 coming +out lately, James? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. You've noticed it, too? [_Picks up another letter, looking over +it._ + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. [_Pausing, taking off his eye-glasses and holding them on his +thumb. Philosophically._] How prettily Nature accomplishes her will-- +making a girl doubly beautiful that a young man may yield his freedom the +more easily. Wonderful! [_During the following, he glances over letters._] +A young girl is like a violet sheltered under a bush, James; and that is +as 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 free +beings and-- + +PETER. Free? Of course Katie's free--to a certain extent. Do you mean to +tell me that any young girl should be freer? Nonsense! She should be happy +that _I_ am here to think for her--_I_! _We_ must think for people who +can't think for themselves; and a young girl can't. [_Signing an answer to +a 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't +think for others--any more than we can eat or sleep for them. + +PETER. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... I see what you +mean. + +JAMES. Of course, every happy being is bound by its nature to lead its own +life--that it may be a free being. Evidently I didn't make my meaning +clear. [_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. Cultivate +sentiment. [_Signing the letter._] Happy? Has it ever occurred to you that +Katie 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 towards +Frederik. + +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 the +house--[_Touching his chest._] to guard her--to watch over her. Leave it +to _me_. [_Enthusiastically._] Sit here, James. Take one of Frederik's +cigars. [JAMES _politely thanks him, but doesn't take one._] It's a +pleasure 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 carry +out my plans-- + +CATHERINE. [_Sticking her head in the door._] Ready for coffee? + +PETER. Er--a little later. Close the door, dear. [_She disappears, closing +the door._] In order to carry out my plans, I have had to use great +diplomacy. I made up my mind to keep Katie in the family; being a rich +man--everybody knows it--I've had to guard against fortune-hunters. +However, I think I've done away with them, for the whole town understands +that 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 bring +Catherine up to keep her in the family, and it has been fulfilled. My +plans 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 time +you'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 I +have the greatest respect for your opinion; but you can't mate people as +you'd graft tulips. And more than once, I've--I've caught her crying and +I've thought perhaps ... + +PETER. [_Pooh-poohing._] Crying? Of course! Was there ever a girl who +didn't cry?... You amuse me ... with your ideas of life.... Ha! Haven't I +asked her why she was crying,--and hasn't she always said: "I don't know +why--it's nothing." They love to cry. [_Signs the last letter._] But +that's what they all cry over--nothing. James, do you know how I happened +to 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 queer +notions. You are young, but see that you don't need the Doctor, James. Do +you know how I was cured? I'll tell you. One day, when I had business in +the city, the Doctor went with me, and before I knew what he was at--he +had marched me into a home for babies.... Katie was nearest the door--the +first one. Pinned over her crib was her name: "Catherine Staats, aged +three months." She held out her little arms ... so friendless--so +pitiful--so alone--and I was done for. We brought her back home, the +Doctor, a nurse and I. The first time I carried her up those stairs--all +my fine bachelor's ideas went out of my head. I knew then that my theories +were all humbug. I had missed the child in the house who was to teach me +everything. I had missed many children in my house. From that day, I +watched over her life. [_Rising, pointing towards the head of the +stairs._] James, I was born in this house--in the little room where I +sleep; and her children shall one day play in the room in which I was +born.... That's very pretty, eh? [_Wipes his eyes, sentimentally._] I've +always 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 children +shall play, so long as they play happily. + +PETER. What? Her children can play anywhere--in China if they want to! Are +you 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 keep +my household together, by your leave. [_Banging his clenched fist on the +desk._] It's my plan. [_Cleans his pipe, looking at_ JAMES _from time to +time._ 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 is +pastoor's dag."_ (It is the pastor's day.)] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It's +William's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_ +PETER _calls "Come in,"_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, stands +timidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand._] How are you +to-day, William? [_Pats_ WILLIAM _on the shoulder._ + +WILLIAM. The Doctor says I'm well now. + +PETER. Good! Then you shall take flowers to the church. [_Calls off._] A +big armful, Otto! + +MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which she +tucks into_ WILLIAM'S _breast pocket._ + +PETER. [_In a low voice, to_ JAMES.] There's your example of freedom! +William's mother, old Marta's spoiled child, was free. You remember +Annamarie, James?--let to come and go as she pleased. God knows where she +is now ... and here is William with the poor old grandmother.... Run along +with the flowers, William. [_Gives_ WILLIAM _some pennies as he goes._] +How he shoots up, eh, Marta? + +MARTA. [_With the hopeless sorrow of the old, as she passes off._] +Poor child ... poor child. + +PETER. Give Katie more freedom, eh? Oh, no! I shall guard her as I would +guard my own, for she is as dear to me as though she were mine, and, by +marriage, please God, she shall be a Grimm in _name_. + +JAMES. Mr. Grimm, I--I wish you would transfer me to your branch house in +Florida. + +PETER. What? You who were so glad to come back! James, you need a holiday. +Close your desk. Go out and busy yourself with those pet vegetables of +yours. Change your ideas; then come back sane and sensible, and attend to +your work. [_Giving a last shot at_ JAMES _as he passes into the office +and_ FREDERIK _re-enters._] You don't know what you want! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking after_ JAMES.] Uncle Peter, when I came in this +morning, I made up my mind to speak to you of James. + +PETER. James? + +FREDERIK. Yes, I've wondered lately if ... it seems to me that James is +interested in Catherine. + +PETER. James? Impossible. + +FREDERIK. I'm not so sure. + +PETER. [_Good-naturedly._] James? James Hartman? + +FREDERIK. When I look back and remember him as a barefoot boy living in a +shack behind our hot-houses--and see him now--in here with you-- + +PETER. All the more credit, Frederik. + +FREDERIK. Yes; but these are the sort of fellows who dream of getting into +the firm. And there 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 think +of 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 shrewd +glance; but_ PETER, _suspecting nothing, continues._] I meant ... has +James shown any special interest in you? + +CATHERINE. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... [_Flurried._] +Why, Uncle Peter!... Uncle Peter!... whatever put this notion into your +head? + +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,--if +that's what you mean. He has always been very respectful in a perfectly +friendly way. + +PETER. [_Convinced._] Respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_To_ +FREDERIK.] You can't ask more than that. Thank you, dear, that's all I +wanted. Run along. [_Glad to escape,_ CATHERINE _leaves the room._] He was +only respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_Slaps_ FREDERIK _on the +back._] 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 as +day. He's trying to make love to her under our very eyes. I saw him. I +wish you would ask him to stay in his office and attend to his own +business. [JAMES _now re-enters on his way to the gardens._] + +PETER. James, it has just occurred to me--that--[_James pauses._] What +was your reason for wanting to give up your position? Had it anything to +do 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, do +you 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 at +the desk._] Get your money at the office. You may have that position in +Florida. 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 her +good-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, and +perhaps 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 he +passes him._] Hy're you, Jim? Glad Jim's back. One of the finest lads I +ever 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 exceedingly +intellectual. He is the rare type of doctor who forgets to make out his +bills. He has a grizzled grey beard, and his hair is touched with grey. He +wears silver-rimmed spectacles. His substantial but unpressed clothing is +made 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 and +leaves 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 have +you done? [_Casually_.] Were you to die,--say to-morrow,--how would it be +with--[_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, but +every one must come to it--sooner or later. I mean--what would Katie's +position be in this house? I know you've set your heart upon her marrying +Frederik, and all that sort of nonsense, but will it work? I've always +thought '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, but +supposing 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 tell +you. No cause for apprehension, but-- + +PETER. Then why tell me? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When I cured you of that cold--wet flowerbeds--two days +ago, I made a discovery. [_Seeing_ CATHERINE _enter, he pauses. She is +followed by_ MARTA, _carrying a tray containing coffee and a plate of +waffles_.] Coffee! I told you not to touch coffee, Peter. It's rank +poison. + +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 plate +and more waffles, and_ CATHERINE _follows her_.] Now, Andrew, you can't +tell me that I'm sick. I won't have it. Every day we hear of some old boy +one 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 babies +creeping on my old floor; playing with my old watch-dog, Toby. I've +promised myself a long line of rosy Grimms. + +DR. MACPHERSON. My God, Peter! That dog is fifteen years old now. Do you +expect 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 old +age. [_Markedly, though feigning to treat the subject lightly_.] Er-- +Peter, I should like to make a compact with you ... that whoever _does_ go +first--and you're quite likely to outlive me,--is to come back and let the +other fellow know ... and settle the question. Splendid test between old +neighbours--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 for +any assistance in your spook tests. + +DR. MACPHERSON. And how many times do you think _you've_ been a spook +yourself? You can't tell me that man is perfect; that he doesn't live more +than one life; that the soul doesn't go on and on. Pshaw! The persistent +personal energy must continue, or what _is_ God? [CATHERINE _has +re-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 to +hear it. [_To_ DR. MACPHERSON.] Andrew, I'll stay behind, contented in +_this_ life; knowing what I have here on earth, and you shall die and +return with your--ha!--persistent personal whatever-it-is, and keep the +spook compact. Every time a knock sounds, or a chair squeaks, or the door +bangs, 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 to +promise, too. Understand that I am not a so-called spiritist. I am merely +a seeker after truth. [_Puts more sugar in his coffee_. + +PETER. That's what they _all_ are--seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do you +really believe such stuff? + +DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here--here--near +us--close at hand. [PETER, _in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peeps +under 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 waste +their lives dreaming of the world to come. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You can't call Sir Charles Crookes, the inventor of +Crookes Tubes,--a waster? Nor Sir Oliver Lodge, the great biologist; nor +Curie, the discoverer of radium; nor Doctor Lombroso, the founder of +Science of Criminology; nor Doctors Maxwell, deVesmé, Richet, Professor +James, of Harvard, and our own Professor Hyslop. Instead of laughing at +ghosts, the scientific men of to-day are trying to lay hold of them. The +frauds and cheats are being crowded from the field. Science is only just +peeping 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 take +it to the police station. That's the proper place for frauds. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I'm sorry, Peter, very sorry, to see that you, like too +many others, make a jest of the most important thing in life. Hyslop is +right: man will spend millions to discover the North Pole, but not a penny +to discover his immortal destiny. + +PETER. [_Stubbornly_.] I don't believe in spook mediums and never shall +believe in them. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Probably most professional mediums cheat--perhaps every +one 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 old +friends come straight back to me and say, "Peter Grimm, here I am!" When +they do--if they do--I shall be the first man to take off my hat to them +and hold out my hand in welcome. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You ask me why? Why can't a telegram travel on a fence +instead of on a wire? Your friends could come back to you if you could put +yourself in a receptive condition; but if you cannot, you must depend upon +a medium--a sensitive. + +PETER. A what? [_To_ CATHERINE.] Something new, eh? He has all the names +for them. Yesterday it was "apports"--flowers that fell down from nowhere +and hit you on the nose. He talks like a medium's parrot. He has only to +close his eyes and along comes the parade. Spooks! Spooky spooks! And now +he 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 seen +a good many cross to the other world; tell me--did you ever see one of +them come back--one? + +DR. MACPHERSON. No. + +PETER. [_Sipping his coffee_.] Never have, eh? And never will. Take +another cup of poison, Andrew. + +_The_ DOCTOR _gives his cup to_ CATHERINE, _who fills it_. PETER _passes +the waffles to the_ DOCTOR, _at the same time winking at_ CATHERINE _as +the_ DOCTOR _takes another_. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There was not perhaps the intimate bond between doctor and +patients 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 to +hear him tell of-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I have known of a return such as you mention. A distant +cousin 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 the +telephone, why cannot a soul with a God-given force behind it dart over +the entire universe? Is Thomas Edison greater than God? + +CATHERINE. [_Shocked_.] Doctor! + +DR. MACPHERSON. And they can't tuck it _all_ on telepathy. Telepathy +cannot explain the case of a spirit-message giving the contents of a +sealed letter known only to the person that died. Here's another +interesting 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, _who +is all attention_.] An officer on the Polar vessel, the _Jeannette_, sent +to the Artic regions by the New York _Herald_, appeared at his wife's +bedside. _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 the +vision. + +PETER. A bad dream. "Six bells and the"--Ha! Ha! Spirit messages! Suet +pudding has brought me messages from the North Pole, and I receive +messages from Kingdom Come after I've eaten a piece of mince pie. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There have been seventeen thousand other cases found to be +worth investigation by the London Society of Psychical Research. + +PETER. [_Changing_.] Supposing, Andrew, that I did "cross over"--I believe +that's what you call dying,--that I _did_ want to come back to see how you +and the little Katie and Frederik were getting on, how do you think I +could manage to do it? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When we hypnotize subjects, Peter, our thoughts take +possession of them. As we enter their bodies, we take the place of a +something that leaves them--a shadow-self. This self can be sent out of +the room--even to a long distance. This self leaves us entirely after +death on the first, second or third day, or so I believe. This is the +force 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 astral +envelope. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Easily_.] De Rochas has actually photographed it by +radio-photography. + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mind you--they couldn't _see_ it when they photographed +it. + +PETER. I imagine not. See it? Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. It stood a few feet away from the sleeper, and was located +by striking at the air and watching for the corresponding portion of the +sleeper's body to recoil. By pricking a certain part of this shadow-self +with a pin, the cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. The camera +was focussed on this part of the shadow-self for fifteen minutes. The +result was the profile of a head. + +PETER. [_After a pause_.] ... You believe that? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The experiment has been repeated again and again. Nobody +acquainted with the subject denies it now. + +PETER. Spook pictures taken by professional mediums! [_Turning away from +the table as though he had heard enough._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. De Rochas, who took the pictures of which I speak, is a +lawyer of standing; and the room was full of scientists who saw the +pictures taken. + +PETER. Hypnotized--all of them. Humbug, Andrew! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Under these conditions, it is quite impossible to +hypnotize a room full of people. Perhaps you think the camera was +hypnotized? In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural current +of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several +degrees. 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 set +to shivery music. [_Sings_.] Tol! Dol! Dol! Dol! [_Rising to get his pipe +and tobacco_.] No, sir! I refuse to agree to your compact. You cannot pick +the lock of heaven's gate. We don't come back. God did enough for us when +he gave us life and strength to work and the work to do. He owes us no +explanations. 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 that +men have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism, +daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy and +lighting by gas. [_Showing feeling_.] I'm very much disappointed that you +refuse my request. + +PETER. [_Laying down his pipe on the table_.] Since you take it so +seriously--here--[_Offers his hand_.] I'll agree. I know you're an old +fool--and I'm another. Now then--[_Shakes hands._] it's settled. +Whichever one shall go first--[_He bursts into laughter--then controlling +himself_.] 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_.], let +us 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 and +I 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 and +entered. She is about forty years of age. Her faded brown hair is streaked +with grey. She wears a plain black alpaca costume._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Agitated_.] Good-morning, Doctor. Fortunate that I +found 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 minister +of the Dutch Reformed Church._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Hy're, Henry? + +_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _bows._ WILLIAM _has returned from his errand +and entered the room,--a picture-book under his arm. He sits up by the +window, absorbed in the pictures--unnoticed by the others._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Closing the door left open by_ PETER, _shutting out +the sound of his voice_.] Well, Doctor ... [_She pauses for a moment to +catch her breath and wipe her eyes_.] I suppose you've told him he's got +to die. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Eyeing_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _with disfavour_.] Who's got to +die? + +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 things +to his wife. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor! + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With solicitude_.] I greatly grieve to hear that +Mr. Grimm has an incurable malady. His heart, I understand. [_Shakes his +head._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. He's not to be told. Is that clear? He may die in twenty +minutes--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 wonder +you Doctors don't baptize the babies. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. At the last minute, he'll want to make a will--and you +know he hasn't made one. He'll want to remember the church and his +charities and his friends; and if he dies before he can carry out his +intentions, 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 your +own affairs. Did you never hear the story of the lady who flattened her +nose--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 any +attention 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 jug +on the sideboard and hangs up the key. The_ BATHOLOMMEYS _look sadly at_ +PETER. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _in the fore-ground tries to smile pleasantly, but +can only assume the peculiarly pained expression of a person about to +break terrible news._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising to the occasion--warmly grasping_ PETER'S +_hand_.] Ah, my dear friend! Many thanks for the flowers William brought +us, and the noble cheque you sent me. We're still enjoying the vegetables +you 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't +mean that--I-- + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Cheerily_.] Of course, she does; and why not, why +not, dear friend? + +PETER. Will you have a glass of my plum brandy? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly_.] No, thank you. As you know, I belong to the +W.C.T.U. + +PETER. Pastor? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Tolerantly_.] No, thank you. I am also opposed to +er-- + +PETER. We're going to drink to spooks--the Doctor and I. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With a startled cry_.] Oh! [_Lifts her handkerchief to +her eyes_.] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea--you of +all people! + +PETER. [_Coming down with two glasses--handing one to the_ DOCTOR.] You +seem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a trifle +nervous 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 you +were. + +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's +too 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 the +F-- 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 very +contented 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 a +typical 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 looks +out 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 at +the window. The music comes nearer and nearer--the parade is supposed to +be passing._ WILLIAM _gives a cry of delight as a clown appears at the +window with handbills under his arm._ + +THE CLOWN. [_As he throws the handbills into the room_.] Billy Miller's +big show and monster circus is in town this afternoon. Only one ring. No +confusion. [_Seeing_ WILLIAM.] Circus day comes but once a year, little +sir. 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 the +voices of shouting children are heard as they run after him._ + +PETER. [_Putting his hand in his pocket_.] We'll go. You may buy the +tickets, William--two front seats. [FREDERIK _re-enters with a floral +catalogue._ + +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. [_Pointing +to_ 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've +got to die, Mr. Grimm. + +_There is a pause._ PETER _stops short, looking at_ WILLIAM. _The others +are startled, but stand motionless, watching the effect of_ WILLIAM'S +_revelation._ FREDERIK _doesn't know what to make of it. There is an +ominous silence in the room. Then_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _whose smile has been +frozen 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 you +think 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 _now +understands 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 his +eyes on the_ CLERGYMAN _who is looking at him warningly. The tears run +down his cheeks--he puts his fingers to his lips--afraid to speak_.] Don't +be frightened. You heard the Doctor say that? + +WILLIAM. [_His voice trembling_.] Y--es, sir. + +PETER. [_Looks round the room--beginning to understand_.] ... What did you +mean, 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 over +instantly. God bless you, sir. I've never come to you for any worthy +charity 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--a +little valve--[_Tapping heart_]--here. [_Slaps_ PETER _on the shoulder_] +There's my 'phone, [_As a bell is heard faintly but persistently ringing +across 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 to +imagine you're worse than you are. [_Angrily_.] Don't funk! + +PETER. [_Calmly_] That wasn't my reason for detaining you, Andrew. [_With +a 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't +forget to come back and apologize for my want of faith. [_The_ DOCTOR +_goes home_. FREDERIK _stands looking at his_ UNCLE. _There is a long +pause._ PETER _throws up both hands_] Rubbish! Doctors are very often +wrong. 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 old +leaf ready to curl up, eh, Fritz? [_He drains the glass. Goes up to the +peg, 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 and +me. + +FREDERIK. Are you going ... after all? ... And with that child? + +PETER. Why not? + +FREDERIK. [_Suddenly showing feeling_.] That little tattler? A child that +listens to everything and just told you ... He shouldn't be allowed in +this part of the house. He should be sent away. + +PETER. [_Astonished_.] Why do you dislike him, Frederik? He's a fine +little fellow. You surprise me, my boy ... [CATHERINE _enters and goes to +the piano, running her hands softly over the keys--playing no melody in +particular._ PETER _sits in his big chair at the table and picks up his +pipe._ FREDERIK, _with an inscrutable face, now strikes a match and holds +it to his uncle's pipe_. PETER _thoughtfully takes one or two puffs; then +speaking so as not to be heard by_ CATHERINE.] Frederik, I want to think +that after I'm gone, everything will be the same here ... just as it is +now. + +FREDERIK. Yes, sir. [_Sitting near_ PETER. + +PETER. Just as it is ... [FREDERIK _nods assent_. PETER _smokes. The room +is very cheerful. The bright midday sunshine creeps through the windows,-- +almost causing a haze in the room--and resting on the pots and vases and +bright 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_.] And +my 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 this +again. 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 the +garden bell rings outside_. + +FREDERIK. Noon. + +PETER. [_Opening the Book at the history of the family--points to the +closely 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 rose +in her belt_.] Will you?... + +CATHERINE. I ... I don't know.... + +PETER. [_Taking the rose and her hand in his own_] I know for you, my +dear. 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 hand +in_ FREDERIK'S, _taking the rose, and tapping their clasped hands with the +flower 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 a +month, 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. [_He +kisses_ CATHERINE. _Then, releasing her, he nods to_ FREDERIK _to follow +his 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 at +him, startled._ FREDERIK, _struck, looking intently at_ PETER _who sits +motionless._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter ... Uncle! What is it? What's the matter? [_Runs to +the door--calling across the street._] Doctor! There he is--just going +out. [_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._] Uncle +Peter! Answer me! ... It's Katie! + +_The_ DOCTOR _enters hurriedly._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. Is it ... Peter? [_He goes quickly to_ PETER _and listens +to 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 be +dead ... I've got his ticket to the circus. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _The second act takes place ten days later, towards the close +of a rainy afternoon. A fire is burning in the grate and a basket +of hickory wood stands beside the hearth._ PETER'S _hat is no longer on +the peg. His pipes and jar of tobacco are missing. A number of wedding +presents are set on a table, some unopened. The interior of the room, with +its snapping fire, forms a pleasant contrast to the gloomy exterior. The +day is fading into dusk._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _is at the piano, playing the +wedding 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 a +very _quiet_ wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You're not to +speak as you enter the room and take your places near the piano. Miss +Staats will come down from her room,--at least I suppose she will--and +will 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 takes +her place at the foot of the stairs and the children repeat the song until +she has marched across the room and stationed herself in some appropriate +corner. As_ FREDERIK _appears from the hall, where he leaves his raincoat +and umbrella,_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _motions the children to silence._] That +will do, dears, thank you. Hurry home between showers. [_The children go +as she explains to_ FREDERIK.] My Sunday-school scholars.... I thought +your dear uncle would like a song at the wedding. I know how bright and +cheery 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 little +fellow. William is very much better. + +FREDERIK. [_Taking a telegram from his pocket-book._] Well, we shall soon +be off to Europe. I've just had a telegram to say a cabin has been +reserved for me on the _Imperator_. To-morrow, thank God, we shall take +the afternoon train to New York. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I must confess that I'm very glad. Of course, I'm happy +to stay and chaperone Catherine; but poor Mr. Batholommey has been alone +at the parsonage for ten days ... ever since your dear uncle ... [_Pauses, +unwinding yarn, then unburdening her mind._] I didn't think at first that +Catherine 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 immediate +marriage; but of course it was your uncle's last request, and that +influenced 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 he +left us. [_Remembering._] Some more letters marked personal came for him +while you were out. I put them in the drawer--[_Points to desk._] with +the rest. It seems odd to think the postman brings your uncle's letters +regularly, 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 things +to-night, Marta. [_She notices the lamp._] The night lamp for William? +[_Looks up towards the door of his room._] Go in very quietly. He's +asleep, 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 your +uncle had left a personal memorandum concerning us. We're anxious to hear +it read. [FREDERIK, _paying no attention to her words, is glancing at the +wedding 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 very +glad you consented to come back. My uncle never went into his office again +after you left. There is some private correspondence concerning matters of +which I know nothing; it lies on your old desk.... I'm anxious to settle +everything to-night. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room._ + +JAMES. Very well. I have no doubt but that I can get through with it by +midnight. + +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. I +have no ill-feeling against you, Hartman. + +JAMES. I'm not refusing to stay because of any ill-feeling. I'm going +because 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 dear +old uncle's. + +JAMES. I hope so. I haven't forgotten that you wanted him to sell out to +Hicks of Rochester on the very day he died. [_Exit into the office._ + +CATHERINE _comes from_ WILLIAM'S _room, simply dressed in white--no touch +of 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 as +he.... [_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 I +could stay quietly here in--[_Tears in her voice as she looks round the +room._]--in my dear home. + +FREDERIK. Why do you want to stay in this old cottage--with its candles +and lamps and shadows? It's very gloomy, very depressing. + +CATHERINE. I don't want to leave this house.... I don't want any home but +this. [_Panic-stricken._] Don't take me away Frederik. I know you've never +really liked it at Grimm's Manor. Are you sure you'll want to come back to +live here? + +FREDERIK. [_As though speaking to a child._] Of course. I'll do anything +you 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 I +owed everything to him.... If he had lived ... if I could see _his_ +happiness at our marriage--it would make _me_ happy; [_Pathetically._] but +he's gone ... and ... I'm afraid we're making a mistake. I don't feel +towards you as I ought, Frederik. I've told you again and again; but I +want to tell you once more: I'm willing to marry you ... but I don't love +you--I never shall. + +FREDERIK. How do you know? + +CATHERINE. I know ... I know.... It seems so disloyal to speak like this +after 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 your +promise? + +CATHERINE. That's it. That's what makes me try to live up to it. [_Wiping +her eyes._] But you know how I feel.... You understand.... + +FREDERIK. Perfectly; you don't quite know your own mind.... Very few young +girls 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 down +the 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 he +on 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 you +were when you came back from college and found him living here. You never +mention his mother's name, yet you played together as children. When Uncle +tried to find Annamarie and bring her back, you were the only one opposed +to it. + +FREDERIK. William is an uncomfortable child to have in the house. He has a +way of staring at people as though he had a perpetual question on his +lips. It's most annoying. + +CATHERINE. What question? + +FREDERIK. As for his mother--I've never seen her since she left this house +and I don't care to hear her name on your lips. Her reputation is--[_The +rain starts pattering on the shingled roof._] Tc! More rain ... the third +day 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, his +son James is here for a few hours--to straighten matters out. I must see +how he's getting on. [_Taking her hand, drawing her towards the table with +a change of manner._] Have you seen all the wedding presents, Kitty? I'll +be back in a few minutes. [_Pats her cheek and exits._ + +CATHERINE _stands over her wedding presents just as he left her--not +looking at them--her eyes filled with tears. The door is suddenly opened +and the_ DOCTOR _enters, a tweed shawl over his shoulders, wearing a tweed +cap. He has a book under his arm._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE _tries to hide her tears, but he +sees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa._] What's +the matter? + +CATHERINE. Nothing.... I was only thinking.... I was hoping that those we +love ... and lose ... _can't_ see us here. I'm beginning to believe +there's not much happiness in _this_ world. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talking +like that with life before you! Read this book, child; [_Gesturing towards +the book on the sofa._] it proves that the dead do see us; they do come +back. [_Walks to the foot of the stairs--turns._] Catherine, I understand +that you've not a penny to your name--unless you marry Frederik; that he +has inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let that +influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look as though they +did--my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [_Goes half-way up +the stairs--then pauses._] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a few +silver spoons--[_Pointing to the wedding presents_ stand in the way of +your future. [_Exit into_ WILLIAM'S _room. The rain increases. The sky +grows blacker--the room darker._ CATHERINE _gives a cry and stretches out +her arms, not looking up._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you ask +it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [_She stands rigid--her +arms outstretched._ MARTA, _who has silently entered from the dining-room +with fresh candles, goes to_ CATHERINE. CATHERINE _suddenly buries her +face on_ MARTA'S _broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes +her 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's +loss 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 the +door._ CATHERINE _starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily +goes into the next room, taking the_ DOCTOR'S _book with her._ MARTA _has +hurried towards the front door, when the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _and_ +COLONEL LAWTON _appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to +escape the storm._ MARTA, _greeting them, passes of to tell_ FREDERIK _of +their 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 negligée +shirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and +peering at people before answering them. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _sets +his umbrella in the hall and the_ COLONEL _hangs his broad-brimmed hat on +the 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 for +baptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder._ +FREDERIK _enters._] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time you +mentioned. + +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 a +paper-weight._] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I +only came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. A +flash of lightning illuminates the room._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but +he 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 a +decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap._ MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands +over 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 going +to take it. It's a bad night. [_Drinks._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazes +up, making the room much lighter._] Go ahead, Frederik. [_Sits._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seats +himself before the snapping hickory fire._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friends +and his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was the +very 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 knew +he'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think that +he'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was so +thoughtful! His purse was always open. + +FREDERIK. [_Eyes_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _for a second, then continues._] For +Mr. Batholommey--[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _nods solemnly._] and the Colonel. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking out a cigar._] He knew that I did the best I +could 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 to +have 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 my +profound respects." [_Continues._] To Colonel Lawton-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is _that_ what he left to _Henry_? Is +that 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 my +most cherished possession." [COLONEL LAWTON _has a look on his face as +though 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 upon +to leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only last +month, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give you +something he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the +fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell,--it's the sentiment of the thing +that 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._] Is +that 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 take +the old fob. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly._] Thank you. I already _have_ a +prayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to the +others--trying to control his feelings._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation and +disappointment._] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in your +uncle. + +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 church +to 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. The +congregation sicked _you_ after him. Now that he's gone and you'll get +nothing more, they'll call you slow--slow and pokey. You'll see! You'll +see 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 my +words--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, will +take _your_ place. It's not what you _preach_ now that counts; it's what +you 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 no +denying that. There was a time when people had to go to church--they +weren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The church +needs 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 said +all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm--well--I shouldn't be +fit 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, pull +yourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!--I've +listened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up my +business for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not a +button! A bible. Still _I'm_ not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, +it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON _stirs the fire--a log falls out and the +flame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the night +approaches._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Turning on_ COLONEL LAWTON.] Oh, you've feathered your +nest, Colonel! You're a rich man. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Enraged, raising his voice._] What? I never came here +that _you_ weren't begging. + +FREDERIK. [_Virtuously--laying down the paper._] Well, I'm disgusted! When +I think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled out +money 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 the +money. + +FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the +whole town knew it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the +hour. + +FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why +not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had +the 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 you +this: 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 said +too much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything is +quiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Solemnly--breaking the pause._] Young man, it +might have been better had Mr. Grimm given his _all_ to charity--for he +has 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's +a light? We've been sitting in the dark like owls. Come in. [_A pause. He +strikes a match and holds it above his head. The light shows the open +door. 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 wind +puts out the match in_ FREDERIK'S _hand. The room is once more in +semi-darkness._] There ... it closed again ... [FREDERIK _strikes another +match 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 the +group of characters. She turns up the wick and _PETER GRIMM _is seen +standing in the room--half in shadow. He is as he was in life. The clothes +he wears appear to be those he wore about his house in the first act. He +carries his hat in his hand. He has the same kind smile, the same +deferential manner, but his face is more spiritual and years younger. The +lamp, which _CATHERINE_ has placed on the table, brightens the room._ + +PETER. [_Whose eyes never leave_ CATHERINE.] Yes ... I called you.... I've +come back. + +FREDERIK. [_To_ CATHERINE.] No. + +PETER. Don't be frightened, Katie. It's the most natural thing in the +world. 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 was +almost sure I heard him speak ... but, of course, as soon as I came in--I +remembered.... But some one must have called me. + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _stands looking at them, perplexed; not being able to comprehend as +yet 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._] For +heaven'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 at +the door._ + +CATHERINE. [_Pausing._] Perhaps it was the book I was reading that made me +think 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'll +be 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 his +mistake _now_. + +PETER. I can see several mistakes. [REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _rises and goes +towards 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 that +you can't see me. I wasn't pleased with my funeral sermon; it was very +gloomy--very. I never was so depressed in my life. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_To_ FREDERIK.] Do you know what I should like to say +to your uncle? + +PETER. I know. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I hope at least you'll care for the parish poor as +your uncle did--and keep on with _some_ of his charities. + +PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY'S _shoulder._] That's +all attended to. I arranged all that with Frederik. He must look after my +charities. + +FREDERIK. I might as well tell you now--you needn't look to me. It's Uncle +Peter's fault if your charities are cut off. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Half-doubtingly._] It doesn't seem possible that +he made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK _remains +stolid._ 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 his +overshoes, 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 matters +over--cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin._ + +PETER. [_Slipping his hand through_ COLONEL LAWTON'S _arm. They seem to +look each other in the eye._] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, I +should have made a will ... I--suppose it _is_ a little too late, isn't +it?... It would be--er--unusual to do it now, wouldn't it? + +COLONEL LAWTON, _who has heard nothing--seen nothing--moves away as +though_ PETER _had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for his +cape 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, I +suppose. It's not worth a penny. + +COLONEL LAWTON. I'm not so sure of that. They say there's a lot of money +paid 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 take +it off your hands. + +FREDERIK. I'll find out how much it's worth. I shall have everything +appraised. [_Sets his watch by the clock._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _gives him a +look and joins her husband at the door._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. Good-night. [_Exit, closing the door._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_As_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _goes out--calling after +him._] Henry, Catherine wants you to come back for supper. [MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room too disgusted for words._ FREDERIK _goes into +the office._ + +PETER. [_Now alone._] We live and learn ... and oh! what I have learned +since I came back.... [_He goes to his own particular peg in the vestibule +and hangs up his hat. He glances at the wedding presents. Presently he +sees the flowers which_ CATHERINE _has placed on the desk. With a smile, +he touches the flowers._ MARTA _enters with another lamp, which she places +on a table. As_ PETER'S _eyes rest on_ MARTA, _he nods and smiles in +recognition, waiting for a response._] Well, Marta?... Don't you know +your old master?... No?... No?... [_She winds the clock and leaves the +room._] I seem to be a stranger in my own house ... yet the watch-dog knew +me and wagged his tail as I came in. [_He stands trying to comprehend it +all._] Well! Well! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking at his watch, re-enters from the office and goes to +the 'phone, which presently rings._ FREDERIK _instantly lifts the receiver +as though not wishing to attract attention. In a low voice._] Yes ... I +was waiting for you. How are you, Mr. Hicks? [_Listens._] I'm not anxious +to 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 ... of +course in that case ... I might be tempted. To-morrow? No, I can't see you +to-morrow. I'm going to be married to-morrow, and leave at once for New +York. Thank you. [_Listens._] To-night? Very well, but I don't want it +known. 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 come +to-night?... Yes, yes.... [_Listens at the 'phone._] The dear old man told +you his plans never failed, eh? God rest his soul! [_Laughing +indulgently._] Ha! Ha! Ha! + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! + +FREDERIK. [_Echoing_ HICKS' _words._] What would he say if he knew? What +could he say? Everything must change. + +_A far-away rumble of thunder is heard--the lightning flickers at the +window and a flash is seen on the telephone which tinkles and responds as +though from the electric shock. Exclaiming "Ugh,"_ FREDERIK _drops the +receiver--which hangs down._ + +PETER. [_The storm passes as he speaks into the receiver without touching +the telephone._] Good-evening, my friend. We shall soon meet--face to +face. You won't be able to carry this matter through.... [_Looking into +space as though he could see the future._] You're not well and you're +going out to supper to-night; ... you will eat something that will cause +you to pass over.... I shall see you to-morrow.... A happy crossing! + +FREDERIK. [_Picks up the receiver._] Hello?... You don't feel well, you +say? [_Then echoing the purport of_ HICKS' _answer._] I see.... Your +lawyer can attend to everything to-night without you. Very well. It's +entirely a question of money, Mr. Hicks. Send your lawyer to the Grimm +Manor Hotel. I'll arrange at once for a room. Good-bye. [_Hangs up the +receiver._] That's off my mind. [_He lights a fresh cigarette--his face +expressing the satisfaction he feels in the prospect of a perfectly idle +future._ PETER _looks at him as though to say: "And that's the boy whom I +loved 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 he +could feel the presence of some one waiting there._] Yes ... I am still +in the house. Come in ... come in ... [_He repeats the signal of the first +act._] Ou--oo. [_The door opens slowly--and_ CATHERINE _enters as though +at_ PETER'S _call. She looks about her, not understanding. He holds out +his arms to her._ CATHERINE _walks slowly towards him. He takes her in his +arms, but she does not respond. She does not know that she is being +held._] There! There!... Don't worry.... It's all right.... We'll arrange +things very differently. I've come back to change all my plans. [_She +moves 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 love +for you outlive _me_? Isn't it here in the home?... Don't cry. [_She moves +about the room in thought. As_ PETER _watches her--she pauses near his +desk._ + +CATHERINE. [_Suddenly._] Crying doesn't help matters. + +PETER. She hears me. She doesn't know it, but she hears me. She's cheering +up. [_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 the +realization of her loss_, CATHERINE _sighs._ + +PETER. [_Correcting himself._] I--I mean--since I learned that there was a +happier place than the world I left.... I'm a trifle confused. I've not +had time to adjust myself to these new conditions. [CATHERINE _smiles +sadly--goes up to the window, and, leaning against the pane, looks out +into the night._ PETER _continues comfortingly._] The dead have never +really died, you know. We couldn't die if we tried. We're all about +you.... Look at the gardens: they've died, haven't they? But there they +are all the better for it. Death is the greatest thing in the world. It's +really a--Ha!--delightful experience. What is it, after all? A nap from +which we waken rested, refreshened ... a sleep from which we spring up +like 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 than +you--much younger. [_A conflict is going on in_ CATHERINE'S _mind. She +walks 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 what +you're thinking.... Katie, I want you to break that very foolish promise I +asked you to make. You're almost tempted to. Break it! Break it at once; +then--[_Glancing smilingly towards the door through which he came--as +though he wished to leave--like a child longing to go back to play._] then +I 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 her +mind._] You have a feeling ... an impression of what I'm saying; but the +words ... the words are not clear.... Mm ... let me see.... If you can't +understand 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 very +often ... and then, there's your mother. [_Suddenly remembering._] Oh, +yes, I had almost forgotten. I have a message for you, Katie.... [_He +seats himself in a chair which is almost in front of her._] I've met your +mother. [_She sits in a reverie._ PETER _continues with the air of a +returned traveller relating his experiences._] She heard that I had +crossed 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 interesting +experience. She knew me at once. "You were Peter Grimm," she said, "before +you knew better"--that's what _they_ call leaving _this_ world--"_to know +better_." 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 that +you had a happy home. I spoke of your future--of my plans for you and +Frederik. "Peter Grimm," she said, "you've over-looked the most important +thing in the world--love. You haven't given her _her right_ to the choice +of her lover--_her right_!" Then it came over me that I'd made a terrible +mistake ... and at that minute, you called to me. [_Impressively._] In the +darkness surrounding all I had left behind, there came a light ... a +glimmer where you stood ... a clear call in the night.... It seemed as +though I had not been away one second ... but in that second, you had +suffered.... Now I am back to show you the way.... I am here to put my +hand on your dear head and give you your mother's blessing; to say she +will be with you in spirit until she holds you in her arms--you and your +loved husband--[CATHERINE _turns in her chair and looks towards the door +of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _catches the thought._]-- +yes, James, it's you.... And the message ended in this kiss. [_Prints a +kiss 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 least +hope! Anybody can hope. + +CATHERINE _rises with an entire change of manner--takes a bright red +blossom from the vase on_ PETER'S _desk--then deliberately walks to the +door of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _follows her action +hopefully. She does not tap on the door, however, but turns and sits at +the piano--in thought--not facing the piano. She puts_ PETER'S _flowers +against her face. Then, laying the flowers on the piano, sings softly +three or four bars of the song she sang in the first act--and stops +abruptly._ + +CATHERINE. [_To herself._] That I should sit here singing--at a time like +this! + +PETER. Sing! Sing! Why not? Lift up your voice like a bird! Your old uncle +doesn'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 could +only 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--I +can tell you _that_. They'd do dreadful things to get away from this +existence--make for the nearest pond or--[_Pausing abruptly._] Ah, here +comes someone who'll know all about it! [_The_ DOCTOR _comes from_ +WILLIAM'S _room._ PETER _greets him in a cordial but casual way, as though +he 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 quite +understand him. + +PETER. I apologize. I said that if I could come back, I would; and here I +am--apologizing. Andrew! Andrew! [_Trying to attract_ DR. MACPHERSON'S +_attention._] I have a message, but I can't get it across. This is your +chance. 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 a +prescription with his fountain pen._] I'll leave this prescription at the +druggist's-- + +PETER. I'm quite shut out.... They've closed the door and turned the key +on me. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Suddenly noticing that_ CATHERINE _seems more +cheerful._] What's happened? I left you in tears and here you are--all +smiles. + +CATHERINE. Yes, I--I am happier--for some reason.... For the last few +minutes 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 very +short 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 both +occupy the same seats as in the first act._ + +PETER. The trouble is with other people, not with us. You want us to give +all sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while--very +poorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter--bless his heart! [_His elbow on the table +as though he had been thinking over the matter._ CATHERINE _sits quietly +listening._] If he kept that compact with me, and came back,--do you know +what I'd ask him first? If our work goes on. + +PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerably +since I crossed over. + +CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The question _every man wants the answer to_: what's to +become of me--_me_--_my work_? Am I going to be a bone setter in the next +life and he a tulip man?... I wonder. + +PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody--Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit told +me that sometimes our work _does_ go on; but he was an awful liar--you +knew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius is +simply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows his +business. Now then: [_Confidentially preparing to open an argument-- +sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act._] it stands to +reason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with a +fellow who knew his business before he was born? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Unconsciously grasping the thought._] I believe it is +possible to have more than one chance at our work. + +PETER. There ... you caught that.... Why can't you take my message to +Catherine? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising to get his shawl--gruffly._] Thought over what I +told 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 Peter +wished. 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 without +seeming to pull it._] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can always +change 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 coat +pocket._] 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 _and +facing_ CATHERINE.] Tc! Tc! Tc! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night. + +CATHERINE. Good-night. [CATHERINE _goes quietly to the fireplace, kneeling +down, mends the fire, and remains there sitting on an ottoman._ + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] If I could only make some sign--to +start you thinking; but I can't depend upon _you_, I see that.... [_Then +changing--as though he had an idea._] Ah, yes! There _is_ another way. Now +to work. [_With renewed activity, he taps in the direction of the office +door, although he himself stands three feet away from it. The door opens +promptly and_ JAMES _appears on the threshold--pen in hand--as though +something had made him rise suddenly from his desk._ CATHERINE, _still +seated, does not see_ JAMES, _who stands looking at her--remembering that +she is to be married on the following day._ PETER _tempts_ JAMES.] Yes, +she _is_ pretty, James ... young and lovely.... Look!... There are kisses +tangled in her hair where it curls ... hundreds of them.... Are you going +to let her go? Her lips are red with the red of youth. Every smile is an +invocation to life. Who could resist her smiles? Can you, James? No, you +will not let her go. And her hands, James.... Look! Hands made to clasp +and cling to yours. Imagine her little feet trudging happily about _your_ +home.... Look at her shoulders ... shaped for a resting-place for a little +head.... You were right, James, we should ask nothing of our girls but to +marry the men they love and be happy wives and happy mothers of happy +children. You feel what I am saying.... You couldn't live without her, +could you? No? Very well, then--[_Changing abruptly._] Now, it's your +turn. + +JAMES _pauses a moment. There is silence. Then he comes forward a step +and_ 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't +know 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 people +together, 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 luck +together. We're going to start with a small fruit farm. It will give me a +chance 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 just +before he went, he gave me his mother's wedding ring and asked me to marry +Frederik. I shall never forget how happy he was when I promised. That was +all he wanted. His last smile was for me ... and there he sat--still +smiling after he was gone ... the smile of a man leaving the world +perfectly 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 hereafter +if I didn't do everything he wished; I couldn't say my prayers at night; I +couldn't speak his name in them.... He trusted me; depended upon me; did +everything for me; so I must do this for him.... I wanted you to know +this, 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 like +you--in _that_ way.... God! He's rotten all the way through. He's even +worse 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't +know what!... [PETER _smiles._] I felt that I _must_ talk to you. You +looked so young, so helpless, such a child. You've never had to think for +yourself--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 where +you don't love. Why should you carry out your uncle's plans? You're going +to be wretched for life to please a dead man who doesn't know it; or, if +he 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 you +were of your uncle or how much he did for you--it wasn't right to ask this +of 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 I +think 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 I +had any hopes--I hadn't.... I haven't now.... [_Struck._] But in spite of +what I'm saying ... I don't know what makes me think that I ... I could +take 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 violently +propelled. In reality, she thinks that she is yielding to an impulse. As +she reaches him, she exclaims_ "No," _and turns back, but_ JAMES, _with +outstretched 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 stands +free of_ JAMES--_then turns and walks to the stairs._] Good-bye, Jim. + +JAMES. Do you mean it? Are you really going to sacrifice yourself because +of--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 in +his face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive._ + +FREDERIK. [_Throwing his hat and coat on a chair._] I have some work to +do--more of my uncle's unopened mail; then I'll join you, Hartman. We +must--er--make haste. + +JAMES _looks at_ CATHERINE, _then at_ FREDERIK. CATHERINE _gives him an +imploring 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 ceremony +to-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--opens +two letters--tears them up after barely glancing at them--then sees_ +CATHERINE _still standing at the foot of the stairs--her back to him. He +lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses +her._ + +CATHERINE. [_With a revulsion of feeling._] No! No! No! [_She covers her +face with her hands--trying to control herself._] Please!... Not now.... + +FREDERIK. Why not _now_? [_Suspiciously._] Has Hartman been talking to +you? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE _starts slowly up the +stairs._] Wait a moment, please.... [_As she retreats a step up the +stairs, he follows her._] Do you really imagine you--you care for that +fellow? + +CATHERINE. Don't--please. + +FREDERIK. I'm sorry to insist. Of course, I knew there was a sort of +school-girl attachment on your part; ... that you'd known each other since +childhood. I don't take it at all seriously. In three months, you'll +forget him. I must insist, however, that you do _not_ speak to him again +to-night. After to-morrow--after we are married--I'm quite sure that you +will not forget you are my wife, Catherine--my wife. + +CATHERINE. I sha'n't forget. [_She escapes into her room._ FREDERIK _goes +to 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 I +know you! [FREDERIK _is reading a letter._] You sit there opening a dead +man'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. Even +now it is overtaking you. Your hour has struck. [FREDERIK _takes up +another letter and begins to read it; then, as though disturbed by a +passing thought, he puts it down. As though perplexed by the condition of +his own mind, he ponders, his eyes resting unconsciously on_ PETER.] Your +hour has struck. + +FREDERIK. [_To himself._] What in the world is the matter with me +to-night? + +PETER. Read! + +FREDERIK. [_Has opened a long, narrow, blue envelope containing a letter +on 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 though +reading the letter in the air._] "Dear Mr. Grimm: I have not written +because 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 reads +aloud._] "Don't be too hard upon me.... I have gone hungry trying to save +a few pennies for him, but I never could; and now I see that I cannot hope +to have him back. William is far better off with you. I--" [_Hesitates._ + +PETER. [_Going back of the desk, standing behind_ FREDERIK'S _chair._] Go +on.... + +FREDERIK. "I wish that I might see him once again. Perhaps I could come +and 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 his +shoulder--then glances about._] I could have sworn somebody was looking +over my shoulder ... or had come in at the door ... or ... [_But seeing no +one--he continues._] "I met someone from home; ... if there is any truth +in the rumour of Catherine's marriage--it mustn't be, Mr. Grimm--it +mustn't be ... not to Frederik. For Frederik is my little boy's--" +[FREDERIK _gives a furtive glance upstairs at the door of the child's +room. Picks up the small picture which was in the envelope._] Her picture +... [_Turns it over--looks at the back--reads._] "For my boy, from +Annamarie." [FREDERIK, _conscious-stricken for the time being, bows his +head._ + +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 his +mother's pardon. Turn over a fresh page, that I may leave this house in +peace.... + +FREDERIK. [_Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leading +into the hall._] Who is at the door? Curious ... I thought I heard someone +at ... + +PETER. I am at the door--I, Peter Grimm! Annamarie is at the door--the +little girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchen +breaking her heart for some word. William is at the door--your own flesh +and 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 door +of your conscience, Frederik.... Don't keep us waiting, my boy. It's very +hard to kill the love I had for you. I long to love you again--to take you +back 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 back +her 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 of +her joy, her gratitude, her affection. It's worth living for, lad. Speak! +Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK _takes several steps--then turns +back to the desk. He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself,_ "Damn +the woman," _and sinks into his chair._] Frederik Grimm, stand up before +me! [FREDERIK _starts to rise, but changes his mind._] Stand up! [FREDERIK +_rises--not knowing why he has risen._ PETER _points an accusing finger +at_ FREDERIK.] Liar to the dead! Cheat, thief, hypocrite! You sha'n't have +my little girl. You only want her for a week, a day, an hour. I refuse. I +have come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest.... I +have come back.... You cannot drive me from your thoughts--I am there.... +[_Tapping his forehead, without touching it._] I am looking over your +shoulder ... in at the window ... under the door.... You are breathing me +in the air.... I am looking at your heart. [_He brings his clenched fist +down on the desk in answer to_ FREDERIK'S _gesture; but, despite the +seeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound._] Hear me! You shall hear +me! Hear me! [_Calling loudly._] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobody +hear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journey +been 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? Is +there no second chance in this world? + +FREDERIK. [_With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his +thoughts._] Psh! + +MARTA _enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small +cakes._ PETER, _who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog +craving 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, _deep +in thought, does not notice her._ PETER _points to the desk as though to +say, "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 about +to set on the desk._ + +PETER. [_Speaking in a hushed voice._] Marta, see what you have in your +hand ... that letter ... there ... read it.... Run to Catherine with it. +Read it from the house-tops.... The letter ... Look! There you have the +story 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 never +speak.... The letter for Catherine. + +MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to +look 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 his +black-bordered handkerchief._] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenly +here 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's +customs.... 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 ... that +Annamarie ... that there should be some message.... Every day I expect to +hear ... + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _gestures to_ MARTA--_pointing to the picture and letter, now +covered 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 the +letter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burning +pieces on a tray. As the flame dies out,_ FREDERIK _brushes the blackened +paper into the waste-basket._] There's an end to _that_! + +PETER _crouches near the basket--hovering over it, his hinds clasped +helplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to a +bedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not with +the blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying the +impression 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 sleeping +suit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before_ FREDERIK _sees +him._ 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 the +proper 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's +passing. [_He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breeze +sweeps through the room--bellies out the curtains and causes the lustres +to jingle on the mantel. Surprised._] No. It's almost dark. There's no +procession ... no shining horses.... [_Turning sadly away from the +window._] 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, in +retreating from him, unconsciously backs towards_ PETER.] Are you feeling +better? + +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; nobody +knows. + +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 explain +himself, 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 of +water, please? + +FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good for +little boys with fever. + +WILLIAM. [_Going towards the stairs._] Wish I could find a cold brook and +lie in it. [_Goes slowly up the stairs._ FREDERIK _would destroy the +pieces of the picture; but_ PETER _faces him as though forbidding him to +touch it, and, for the first time,_ FREDERIK _imagines he sees the +apparition of his uncle._ + +FREDERIK. [_In a very low voice--almost inaudibly._] My God! I thought I +saw ... [_Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of_ PETER _is +still before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweat +from his forehead._ WILLIAM, _hearing the door close, comes down stairs +and, 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 his +influence._ + +WILLIAM. Wish it _had_ been the circus music. + +PETER. You shall hear it all again. [_Gestures towards the plate of cakes +on the tray._] Come, William, here's something very nice. + +WILLIAM. [_Seeing the cakes._] Um! Cakes! [_He steals to the tray, looking +over his shoulder in fear of being caught._ + +PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to the +cakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me ... a very +important message?... + +_The circus music is heard._ WILLIAM _sits at the tray and_ PETER _seats +himself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours._ WILLIAM, +_being unconsciously coaxed by_ PETER, _is prevailed upon to choose the +biggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards_ PETER. + +WILLIAM. [_To himself._] Ha!... Think I am dreaming. [_Rubbing his little +stomach ecstatically._] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't any +cake. + +PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM _has taken another piece of cake +which he nibbles at--now holding a piece in each hand._] Pretty +substantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM _eats the +raisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl._] Don't hesitate, William. Sugar +won't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William--help +yourself. [WILLIAM _looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of_ +FREDERIK.] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he saw +me, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience--hallucination. +[WILLIAM _nibbles a lump of sugar._] Now, William, I have a message for +you. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats another +lump of sugar._] I see ... I can't expect to get any assistance from a boy +while his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM _empties the cream jug and +helps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out._] Now I'm going to +tell you something. [_Impressively._] You're a very lucky boy, William; I +congratulate you. Do you know why--of all this household--you are the only +one to help me?... This is the secret: in a little time--it won't be +long--you're going--[_As though he were imparting the most delightful +information._]--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 without +paying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb the +hill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there are +some little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin the +battle of life.... Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle.... +Like little moon moths,--they look in at the windows; they beat at the +panes; they see the lights of happy firesides--the lights of home; but +they 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 your +man's work begins,--you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! No +coarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world like +Frederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimming +of the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shall +know in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, ... tears such as +Katie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith--your +innocence,--you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!... "It is +well with the _child_." [WILLIAM _lays down the cake and, clasping his +hands, thinks._ PETER _answers his thoughts._] What? No--don't think of +it! 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 you +with sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM +_takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims_ "Hm!" _in a +satisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in his +chair._] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try to +understand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherine +that-- + +WILLIAM. [_Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap._] Take me back +with 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 my +hand ... [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 nothing +there. + +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 can +see 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 help +me 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 it +must be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circus +for nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone to +town?" + +PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Come +here, William [_He starts towards the desk._]; would you like to see +someone whom all little boys love--love more than anybody else in the +whole world? [PETER _is standing at the desk with his finger on the torn +pieces 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 in +little bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her to +everybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world did +she ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them to +thinking. + +WILLIAM. Yes. Let us show her to everybody. [_He sits and joins the pieces +under the guidance of_ PETER.] Annamarie ... Annamarie ... + +PETER. You remember many things, William ... things that happened when you +lived 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 things +tucked away in your childish brain,--things laid away in your mind like +toys upon a shelf. Come, pick them up and dust them off and bring them out +again. 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 speaking +to the picture._] I must put you together before _he_ comes back. [_He +fits the other pieces together_--PETER _trying to guide him. Presently_ +WILLIAM _hums as a child will when at play, singing the tune of "Uncle +Rat."_] "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 the +picture_. + +PETER. [_Finishing the verse_.] "A cup of tea." [_With a gesture as though +knocking 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--staring +at 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 front +of_ CATHERINE'S _door, it opens_. PETER _passes in and_ CATHERINE _comes +out_. + +CATHERINE. [_Astonished_.] Why, William! What are you doing here? + +WILLIAM. Miss Catherine! Come down! Come down! I have something to show +you. + +CATHERINE. [_Not coming down_.] No, dear--come upstairs; there's a good +boy. 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. Grimm +brought back with him. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Alarmed_.] What are you talking about, William? Old +Mr. 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. [_Comes +down 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 all +sorts 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 his +hand. It is evident that he has come over in a hurry._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Surprised._] I was just going for you. How fortunate +that 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 _cheek +and 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 this +room--that he was talking to him. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Interested._] Yes? Really? Well, possibly he is. Nothing +remarkable 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--looking +at_ WILLIAM.] I wonder if that boy's a sensitive. [_Hand on his chin._] I +wonder ... + +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 so +constituted 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 out +what ails William. William, what makes you think that Mr. Grimm is in this +room? + +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._] What +makes 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 to +you? + +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 show +you 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 heard +from 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 at +the truth. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. It's a new picture. She's much changed. How ever did it +find its way here? + +CATHERINE. I never saw it before. It's very strange.... We've all been +waiting 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 message +with it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I remember the day that picture came ... the day your +uncle 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 and +rushing about. It dropped to the floor and as I picked it up I thought I +knew the writing; but I couldn't remember whose it was.... It was directed +to your uncle.... [_Looking from the desk to the waste-basket._] There's +the envelope [_Holding up a scrap of blue envelope._] and paper; ... some +one 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 to +find out. You may draw the curtains, Catherine, if you please. [CATHERINE +_draws the curtains. The_ DOCTOR _turns the lights down and closes the +door. A pause._] Peter Grimm ... + +PETER. Yes, Andrew?... + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Not hearing._] If you have come back ... if you are in +the room ... and the boy speaks truly--give me some sign ... some +indication ... + +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 there +are great difficulties--will you try and send your message by William? I +presume 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 understand +perfectly. + +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 not +shutting his eyes. As though controlled by_ PETER.] There was Annamarie +and 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 lived +with 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 that +came to see-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Perplexed._] It can't be possible that the child knows +what he's talking about. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Ignoring her._] What did you tell Mr. Grimm when he +asked 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 afraid +now, William? + +WILLIAM. [_Looking towards the door._] N-no--but.... Please, please don't +let 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. _All +instinctively look towards the spot to which_ WILLIAM _points, but they +see no one._ + +PETER. [_Speaking slowly to the boy._] Catherine--must--not--marry +Frederik 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 make +Annamarie cry; ... he makes me cry ... + +CATHERINE. [_With suppressed excitement--half to herself._] Why are you +afraid 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'm +putting them together just as he put that picture together.... I must know +the 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. He +is taken unawares and for a few seconds he does not move--then he +recovers._ + +WILLIAM. Please don't let him scold me. I'm afraid of him. [_Going towards +the stairs--looking at_ FREDERIK.] I was afraid of him when I lived with +Annamarie 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 little +while 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 from +Annamarie.... [_Gestures towards the desk._ FREDERIK _sees the photograph +and 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 see +her, too. Why did you tell me that you'd never seen her since she went +away? 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 to +know what his mother was to you. I want the truth. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Who has been in thought--now looking up._] We've heard +the truth. We had that message from Peter Grimm himself. + +CATHERINE. Yes, it is true. I believe Uncle Peter Grimm was in this room +to-night. + +FREDERIK. [_Not surprised--glancing towards the spot where_ PETER _stood +when 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 right +to 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'll +take it back! + +PETER. [_Gently--smilingly--relieved._] I did give it back to you, my +dear; 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 first +act is now being used by the_ DOCTOR _for_ WILLIAM'S _medicines, two +bottles, 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 has +thought of going to bed._ FREDERIK _is waiting at the hotel for the lawyer +whom_ 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, is +seated before the fire, writing the account of_ PETER GRIMM'S _return, for +the American Branch of the "London Society for Psychical Research." It is +now a fine, clear night. The clouds are almost silvery and a hint of the +moon is showing._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Reading what he has written._] "To be forwarded to the +'London Society for Psychical Research': Dr. Hyslop: Dear Sir: This +evening at the residence of Peter--" [_Pauses and inserts "the late" and +continues to read after inserting the words._] "--the late Peter Grimm-- +the well-known horticulturist of Grimm Manor, New York, certain phenomena +were observed which would clearly indicate the return of Peter Grimm, ten +days after his decease. While he was invisible to all, three people were +present besides myself--one of these, a child of eight, who received the +message. 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, that +whichever went first was to return and give the other some sign; and I +propose to give positive proof--" [_He hesitates--thinks--then repeats._] +"positive proof that he kept this compact and that I assisted in the +carrying out of his instructions." + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Enters--evidently highly wrought up by the events of +the evening._] Who was that? Who knocked? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Telegram. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I thought perhaps Frederik had come back. Don't you +consider William much better? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mm ... + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear, dear! The scene that took place to-night has +completely upset me. [_The_ DOCTOR _takes up his pen and reads to +himself._] Well, Doctor: [_She pushes forward a chair and sits at the +other side of the table--facing him._] the breaking off of the engagement +is rather sudden, isn't it? We've been talking it over in the front +parlour, Mr. Batholommey and I. James has finished his work and has just +joined us. I suggest sending out a card--a neat card--saying that, owing +to the bereavement in the family, the wedding has been indefinitely +postponed. 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 very +strange to me--how is it going to look to other people; especially when we +haven't any--any rational explanation--as yet? We must get out of it in +some fashion. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Whose business is it? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Nobody's, of course. But Catherine's position is +certainly unusual; and the strangest part of it all is--she doesn't seem +to feel her situation. She's sitting alone in the library, seemingly +placid 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 be +interested. You might at least answer my question. + +DR. MACPHERSON. What chance have I had to answer? You've done all the +talking. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising--annoyed._] Oh, of course, all these little +matters sound trivial to you; but men like you couldn't look after the +workings of the _next_ world if other people didn't attend to _this_. Some +one has to do it. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I fully appreciate the fact, Mistress Batholommey, that +other 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 something +really 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 for +a moment to suggest that we suspend judgment until the information William +has 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 without +offering some explanation. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_At the 'phone._] Marget, I'm at Peter's. I mean--I'm at +the 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, I +shall 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's +mother for whom I am searching. [_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _smiles +faintly behind his hand._] Then I shall send in my report, and not until +then. What I wish to ask is this: would you have any objection to the name +of 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; but +wouldn't you like to bolster up your report with "the wife of a clergyman +who 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 a +minister's coat. _I_ think myself that you have _probably_ stumbled on the +truth 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 old +and he was with her until five--and five's the age of memory. Every +incident of his mother's life has lingered in his little mind. Supposing +you do find her and learn that it's all true: what do you prove? Simply +that _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 a +clergyman,--I'm just echoing what _everybody else_ thinks--don't you +believe 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--is +it healthy? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Well, Batholommey, religion has frequently led to the +stake, and I never heard of the Spanish Inquisition being called _healthy_ +for anybody taking part in it. Still, religion flourishes. But your +old-fashioned, unscientific, gilt, ginger-bread Heaven blew up ten years +ago--went out. My Heaven's just coming in. It's new. Dr. Funk and a lot of +the 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 that +no man can do. I made up my mind at twenty-one, and my Heaven is just +where 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 be +glad to see me, dear, won't you? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. My church mouse! [_He pats her cheek, kisses her +good-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 are +but air. We didn't see Peter Grimm and you know and I know and everybody +knows that _seeing_ is believing. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Looking up._] Damn everybody! It's everybody's ignorance +that 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 the +carrying 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 have +come to their senses. Catherine has, for one. I'm very glad to see you +back, 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. [_He +picks up the lamp from the_ DOCTOR'S _table and holds it so that he can +look searchingly in the direction of the desk to see if_ PETER'S +_apparition is still there. His eye is suddenly riveted on the telegram +resting 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 the +hotel.... [_Tries to go to the desk but cannot muster up courage._] I had +an appointment to meet a man who wanted to buy the gardens. I may as well +tell you, I'm thinking of selling out root and branch. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Amazed._] Selling out? Peter Grimm's gardens? So this is +the end of Peter's great work? + +FREDERIK. You'll think it strange, Doctor; but I--I simply can't make up +my mind to go near that old desk of my uncle's.... I have a perfect terror +of 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-drawn +breath._] Billy Hicks--the man I was to sell to--is dead.... [_Tosses the +telegram 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 ... whispered +it to me.... Doctor, as sure as you live--somebody else is doing my +thinking 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 ... [_Pointing +towards the desk._] there. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Eh?... + +FREDERIK. And just before I--I saw him--I--I had the ... the strangest +impulse to go to the foot of the stairs and call Kitty--give her the +house--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 of +the 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 of +notes._] Did you ever have this impulse before--to give up Catherine--to +let her have the cottage? + +FREDERIK. Not much, I hadn't. Certainly not. I told you someone else was +thinking for _me_. I don't want to give her up. It's folly! I've always +been fond of her. But if she has turned against me, I'm not going to sit +here and cry about it. I shall be up and off. [_Rising._] But I'll tell +you one thing: from this time, I propose to think for myself. I've taken a +room at the hotel and a few things for the night. I've done with this +house. I'd like to sell it along with the gardens, and let a stranger raze +it to the ground; but--[_Thinks as he looks towards the desk._] when I +walk out of here to-night--it's hers--she can have it. ... I wouldn't +sleep here.... I give her the home because ... + +DR. MACPHERSON. Because you don't believe anything; but you want to be on +the safe side in case he--[_Gesturing to desk._] was there. + +FREDERIK. [_Puzzled--awed--his voice almost dropping to a whisper._] How +do you account for it, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. It might have been an hallucination or perhaps you did see +him, though it could have been inflammation of conscience, Frederik: when +did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Angrily._] Haven't I told you already that I refuse to answer +any questions as to my-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I think it only fair to tell you that it won't make a +particle of difference whether you answer me or not. I have someone on the +track now--working from an old address; I've called in the detectives and +I'll find her, you may be sure of that. As long as I'm going to know it, I +may as well hear your side of it, too. When did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Sits--answers dully, mechanically, after a pause._] About +three 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 man +realizes 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 you +going to do for William? + +FREDERIK. Nothing. I'm a rich man now--and if I recognize him--he'll be at +me till the day he dies. His mother's gone to the dogs and under her +influence, the boy-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. Be silent, you damned young scoundrel. Oh! What an act of +charity if the good Lord took William, and I say it with all my heart. Out +of all you have--not a crumb for-- + +FREDERIK. I want you to know I've sweat for that money, and I'm going to +keep it! + +DR. MACPHERSON. _You've_ sweat for-- + +FREDERIK. [_Showing feeling._]--Yes! How do you think I got the money? I +went to jail for it--jail, jail. Every day I've been in this house has +been spent in prison. I've been doing time. Do you think it didn't get on +my nerves? I've gone to bed at nine o'clock and thought of what I was +missing in New York. I've got up at cock-crow to be in time for grace at +the breakfast table. I took charge of a class in Sabbath-school, and I +handed out the infernal cornucopias at the church Christmas tree, while he +played Santa Claus. What more can a fellow do to earn his money? Don't you +call that sweating? No, sir; I've danced like a damned hand-organ monkey +for the pennies he left me, and I had to grin and touch my hat and make +believe I liked it. Now I'm going to spend every cent for my own personal +pleasure. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Will rich men never learn wisdom! + +FREDERIK. [_Rising_.] No, they won't! But in every fourth generation there +comes along a _wise_ fellow--a spender who knows how to distribute the +money others have hoarded: I'm the spender. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Shame upon you and your like! Your breed should be +exterminated. + +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 more +questions. I'm done. Good-night, Doctor. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night and good-bye. [_With a look of disgust, he has +gone to the table, held a medicine bottle to the light to look at the +label 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 the +front door that she knows_ FREDERIK _has been in the room and has just +left the house_.] Burn up your wedding dress. We've made no mistake. I can +tell you _that_! [_Goes up the stairs to_ WILLIAM'S _room, taking the lamp +with him_. JAMES _has entered, and, taking_ CATHERINE'S _hand, holds it +for a moment_. + +JAMES. Good-night, Catherine. [_She turns and lays her hand on his +shoulder_. + +CATHERINE. I wonder, James, if _he_ can see us now. + +JAMES. That's the big mystery!... Who can tell? But any man who works with +flowers 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 the +morning.... Won't you ... see me to the door? + +CATHERINE. Yes ... yes.... [_They go up together,_ CATHERINE _carrying a +candle into the dark vestibule. The moment they disappear, a lamp standing +on the piano goes out as though the draught from the door or an unseen +hand had extinguished it. It is now quite dark outside, and the moon is +hidden for a moment. At the same time, a light, seemingly coming from +nowhere, reveals_ PETER GRIMM _standing in the room at the door--as though +he had been there when the young people passed out. He is smiling and +happy. The moon is not seen, but the light of it (as though it had come +out from behind a cloud) now reveals the old windmill. From outside the +door 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 his +hands in satisfaction--then listens--and after a second pause exclaims, +with an upraised finger, as though he were hearing the kiss._] Ah! Now I +can go.... [_He walks to the peg on which his hat hangs, and takes it +down. His work is done._ CATHERINE _re-enters, darting into the hall in +girlish 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 leans +against the door, candle-stick in hand--the wind has blown out the +candle._] Oh, I'm so happy! I'm so happy! + +PETER. Then good-night to you, my darling: love cannot say good-bye. [_She +goes to_ PETER'S _chair, and, sitting, thinks it all over--her hands +clasped in her lap--her face radiant with happiness._] Here in your +childhood's home I leave you. Here in the years to come, the way lies +clear before you. [_His arm upraised._] "_Lust in Rust_"--Pleasure and +Peace go with you. [CATHERINE _looks towards the door--remembering_ JAMES' +_kiss--half smiling._] [_Humorously._] Y--es; I saw you. I heard ... I +know.... Here on some sunny, blossoming day when, as a wife, you look out +upon my gardens--every flower and tree and shrub shall bloom enchanted to +your eyes.... All that happens--happens again. And if, at first, a little +knock of poverty taps at the door, and James finds the road hard and +steep--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 shall +see my plantings with new eyes, my Catherine,--when you explain each leaf +and bud to your little people--you will remember the time when _we_ walked +together through the leafy lanes and I taught you--even as you teach +them--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 stranger +who may take my name from off the gates,--what _is_ my name? Already it +grows faint to my ears. [_Lightly._] Yes, yes, yes, let others take my +work.... Why should _we_ care? All that happens, happens again. [_She +rests her elbow on the chair, half hides her face in her hand._] And never +forget this: I shall be waiting for you--I shall know all your life. I +shall adore your children and be their grandfather just as though I were +here; I shall find it hard not to laugh at them when they are bad, and I +shall 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 stockings +at Christmas, in a big, busy, teeming world of shadows just outside your +threshold, or whispering in the still noises of the night.... And oh! as +the years pass, [_Standing over her chair._] you cannot imagine what pride +I shall take in your comfortable middle life--the very _best_ age, I +think--when you two shall look out on your possessions arm in arm--and +take your well-earned comfort and ease. How I shall love to see you look +fondly at each other as you say: "Be happy, Jim--you've worked hard for +this;" or James says: "Take your comfort, little mother, let them all wait +upon _you--you_ waited upon _them_. Lean back in your carriage--you've +earned it!" And towards the end--[_Sitting on a chair by her side and +looking into her face._] after all the luxuries and vanities and +possessions cease to be so important--people return to very simple things, +dear. The evening of life comes bearing its own lamp. Then, perhaps, as a +little 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; asking +nothing more of life than the few hours to be spent with those you +love,... telling your grandchildren, at your knees, how much brighter the +flowers blossomed when _you_ were young. Ha! Ha! Ha! All that happens, +happens again.... And when, one glad day, glorified, radiant, young once +more, 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 over +her and caresses her hand._] good-night. [CATHERINE _rises and, going to +the desk, buries her face in the bunch of flowers placed there in memory +of_ 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_!" Pleasure +and Peace! Amen! [CATHERINE _passes into her room, the music dying away as +her door closes_. MARTA, _still wondering, goes to the clock and winds +it_.] Poor Marta! Every time she thinks of me, she winds my clock. We're +not quite forgotten. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Re-appears, carrying_ WILLIAM, _now wrapped up in an +old-fashioned Dutch patchwork quilt. The_ DOCTOR _has a lamp in his free +hand_.] 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. [_Goes +into the dining-room, leaving the door open_. + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] Good-night, Andrew. I'm afraid the +world will have to wait a little longer for the _big_ guesser. Drop in +often. 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 that +you were down here. [_Seeing_ PETER.] Oh, [_Raising himself to his knees +on the sofa_.] I see you _now_! + +PETER. Yes? [_There is an impressive pause and silence as they face each +other_. + +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 without +you. + +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--[_Lies +down happily_.] to take a nap first.... I'm sleepy. [_He pulls the +covering 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 cracking +of a whip is heard, and the blare of a clown's ten-cent tin horn. The +phantom voice of the_ CLOWN _(very faint) calls:_ + +CLOWN'S VOICE. Billy Miller's big show and monster circus is in town this +afternoon! Don't forget the date! Only one ring--no confusion. Circus day +comes but once a year, little sir. Come early and see the wild animals and +hear the lion roar-r-r! Mind, I shall expect _you!_ Wonderful troupe of +trained 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 ten +cents--one dime! + +_As these voices die away, the_ CLOWN, _whose voice indicates that he is +now 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 is +silence. Then three clear knocks sound on the door._ + +PETER. Come in.... [_The door opens. No one is there--but a faint path of +phosphorous light is seen._] Oh, friends! Troops of you! [_As though he +recognizes the unseen guests._] I've been gone so long that you came for +me, eh? I'm quite ready to go back. I'm just waiting for a happy little +fellow 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 face +beaming._ + +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, and +suddenly, 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. _The +light from the lamp on the table falls on the dead face of the child. Then +the_ DOCTOR _gently lays the boy down again on the couch, and sits +pondering 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-away +sky; 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 sing +together, 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 of +light. 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 the +curtain slowly descends. The air of the song is taken up by an unseen +orchestra and continues as the audience passes out._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Return of Peter Grimm, by David Belasco +Edited by Montrose J. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/13319-8.zip b/old/13319-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..453bb9c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13319-8.zip diff --git a/old/13319.txt b/old/13319.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84cfcdc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13319.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5003 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Return of Peter Grimm, by David Belasco +Edited by Montrose J. Moses + + +***************************************************************** +THERE IS AN ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED +AS EBOOK (# 24359) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24359 +***************************************************************** + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Return of Peter Grimm + +Author: David Belasco + Edited by Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: August 29, 2004 [EBook #13319] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Charles Bidwell and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + +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 side +of David Belasco. He has been privileged to hear expressed, by this Edison +of our stage, diverse opinions about plays and players of the past, and +about insurgent experiments of the immediate hour. He has always found a +man quickly responsive to the best memories of the past, an artist naively +childlike in his love of the theatre, shaped by old conventions and +modified by new inventions. Belasco is the one individual manager to-day +who has a workshop of his own; he is pre-eminently a creator, whereas his +contemporaries, like Charles Frohman, were emphatically manufacturers of +goods in the amusement line. + +Such a man is entitled to deep respect, for the "carry-on" spirit with +which he holds aloft the banner used by Boucicault, Wallack, Palmer, and +Daly. It is wrong to credit him with deafness to innovation, with +blindness to new combinations. He is neither of these. It is difficult to +find a manager more willing to take infinite pains for effect, with no +heed to the cost; it is impossible to place above him a director more +successful in creating atmosphere and in procuring unity of cooperation +from his staff. No one, unless it be Winthrop Ames, gives more personal +care to a production than David Belasco. Considering that he was reared in +the commercial theatre, his position is unique and distinctive. + +In the years to come, when students enter the Columbia University Dramatic +Museum, founded by Professor Brander Matthews, they will be able to judge, +from the model of the stage set for "Peter Grimm," exactly how far David +Belasco's much-talked-of realism went; they will rightly regard it as the +high point in accomplishment before the advent of the "new" scenery, whose +philosophy Belasco understands, but whose artistic spirit he cannot +accept. Maybe, by that time, there will be preserved for close examination +the manuscripts of Belasco's plays--models of thoroughness, of managerial +foresight. The present Editor had occasion once to go through these +typewritten copies; and there remains impressed on the memory the detailed +exposition in "The Darling of the Gods." Here was not only indicated every +shade of lighting, but the minute stage business for acting, revealing how +wholly the manager gave himself over to the creation of atmosphere. I +examined a mass of data--"boot plots," "light plots," "costume designs." +Were the play ever published in this form, while it might confuse the +general reader, it would enlighten the specialist. It would be a key to +realistic stage management, in which Belasco excels. Whether it be his own +play, or that of some outsider, with whom, in the final product, Belasco +always 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 is +most unfortunate that the stupendous record of his life's accomplishment +thus far, which, in two voluminous books, constituted the final labour of +the late William Winter, is not more truly reflective of the man and his +work. It fails to reproduce the flavour of the dramatic periods through +which Belasco passed, in his association with Dion Boucicault as private +secretary, in his work with James A. Herne at Baldwin's Theatre, in San +Francisco, in his pioneer realism at the old New York Madison Square +Theatre, when the Mallory Brothers were managers, Steele Mackaye was one +of the stock dramatists, Henry DeMille was getting ready for collaboration +with Belasco, Daniel Frohman was house-manager and Charles Frohman was out +on the road, trying his abilities as advance-man for Wallack and Madison +Square successes. Winter's life is orderly and matter-of-fact; Belasco's +real 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 magazine +reminiscences, which, if they are lacking in exact sequence, are measure +of 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--a +combine of managers that feared the advent of so individualistic a +playwright 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 on +vagaries. Whatever Belasco has touched since his days of apprenticeship in +San Francisco, he has succeeded in imposing upon it what is popularly +called "the Belasco atmosphere." Though he had done a staggering amount of +work before coming to New York, and though, when he went to the Lyceum +Theatre, he and Henry DeMille won reputation by collaborating in "The +Wife," "Lord Chumley," "The Charity Ball," and "Men and Women," he was +probably first individualized in the minds of present-day theatregoers +when Mrs. Leslie Carter made a sensational swing across stage, holding on +to the clapper of a bell in "The Heart of Maryland." Even thus early, he +was displaying characteristics for which, in later days, he remained +unexcelled. He was helping Bronson Howard to touch up "Baron Rudolph," +"The Banker's Daughter" and "The Young Mrs. Winthrop;" he was succeeding +with a dramatization of H. Rider Haggard's "She," where William Gillette +had failed in the attempt. + +"The Heart of Maryland" established both Belasco and Mrs. Carter. Then he +started on that extravagant period of spectacular drama, which gave to the +stage such memorable pictures as "Du Barry," with Mrs. Carter, and "The +Darling of the Gods," with Blanche Bates. In such pieces he literally +threw away the possibilities of profit, in order to gratify his decorative +sense. Out of that time came two distinctive pieces--one, the exquisitely +poignant "Madame Butterfly" and the other, "The Girl of the Golden West"-- +both giving inspiration to the composer, Puccini, who discovered that a +Belasco play was better suited for the purposes of colourful Italian opera +than any other American dramas he examined. + +Counting his western vicissitudes as one period, and the early New York +days as a second, one might say that in the third period David Belasco +exhibited those excellences and limitations which were thereafter to mark +him and shape all his work. There is an Oriental love of colour and effect +in all he does; but there is no monotony about it. "The Darling of the +Gods" was different from "The Girl of the Golden West," and both were +distinct from "The Rose of the Rancho." It is this scenic decorativeness +which has enriched many a slim piece, accepted by him for presentation, +and such a play has always been given that care and attention which has +turned it eventually into a Belasco "offering." None of his collaborators +will gainsay this genius of his. John Luther Long's novel was unerringly +dramatized; Richard Walton Tully, when he left the Belasco fold, imitated +the Belasco manner, in "The Bird of Paradise" and "Omar, the Tentmaker." +And that same ability Belasco possesses to dissect the heart of a romantic +piece was carried by him into war drama, and into parlour comedies, and +plays of business condition. I doubt whether "The Auctioneer" would read +well, or, for the matter of that, "The Music Master;" Charles Klein has +written 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 he +saw them fitted to the unique figure of David Warfield. + +But a Belasco success is furthered by the tremendous public curiosity that +follows him in all he does. There is a wizardry about him which +fascinates, and makes excellent reading in the press. Long before I saw +the three-winged screen upon which it is his custom to sort out and pin up +his random notes for a play, it was featured in the press. So were +pictures of his "collection," in rooms adjoining his studio--especially +his Napoleonic treasures which are a by-product of his Du Barry days. No +man of the theatre is more constantly on the job than he. It is said that +old John Dee, the famous astrologer whom Queen Elizabeth so often +consulted, produced plays when he was a student at Cambridge University, +with stage effects which only one gifted in the secrets of magic could +have consummated. Belasco paints with an electric switchboard, until the +emotion of his play is unmistakably impressed upon the eye. At a moment's +notice he will root out his proscenium arch, and build a "frame" which +obliterates the footlights; at another time he will build an "apron" to +his stage, not for its historical significance, but merely to give depth +and mellowness to such an ecclesiastical picture as Knoblauch's +"Marie-Odile." He has spent whole nights alone in the theatre auditorium +with his electrician, "feeling" for the "siesta" somnolence which carried +his audience instantly into the Spanish heat of old California, in "The +Rose of the Rancho;" and the moving scenery which took the onlooker from +the foot-hills of the Sierras to the cabin of "The Girl of the Golden +West" 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 the +value of elimination; the eye of the observer is often worried by the +multiplicity of detail, where reticence would have been more quickly +effective. This is the Oriental in Belasco. His is a strange blend of +realism and decorativeness. + +"A young man came to me once," he said to me, "with the manuscript of a +new play, which had possibilities in it. But after I had talked with him +awhile, I found him preaching the doctrines of the 'new' art. So I said to +him, 'My dear sir, here is your manuscript. The first scene calls for a +tenement-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 "all +is a matter of proportion and nothing to do with actuality." + +"I felt," Mr. Belasco continued, "that the young man would find difficulty +in reconciling the nebulous perspectives of Mr. Craig with the squalor of +a city block. I said to him, 'I have been producing for many years, and I +have mounted various plays calling for differing atmospheres. I don't want +to destroy your ideals regarding the 'new art', but I want you to realize +that a manager has to conform his taste to the material he has in hand. I +consider that one of the most truthful sets I have ever had on the stage +was the one for the second act of Eugene Walter's 'The Easiest Way'. A +boarding-house room on the top floor cannot be treated in any other way +than as a boarding-house room. And should I take liberties with what we +know 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 there +is no suggestion in realism; it is unwise to clutter the stage with +needless detail. But we cannot idealize a little sordid ice-box where a +working girl keeps her miserable supper; we cannot symbolize a broken jug +standing in a wash-basin of loud design. Those are the necessary evils of +a 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 would +have been an Elizabethan heart and soul. But his habit is formed as a +producer, and he conforms the "new" art to this habit as completely as +Reinhardt Reinhardtized the morality play, "Everyman," or Von Hofmannsthal +Teutonized "Elektra." + +"The Return of Peter Grimm" has been chosen for the present collection. It +represents a Belasco interest and conviction greater than are to be found +in any of his other plays. While there are no specific claims made for the +fact that_ PETER _materializes after his death, it is written with +plausibility and great care. The psychic phenomena are treated as though +real, and our sympathy for_ PETER _when he returns is a human sympathy for +the inability of a spirit to get his message across. The theme is not +etherealized; one does not see through a mist dimly. There was not even an +attempt, in the stage production of the piece, which occurred at the +Belasco Theatre, New York, on October 17, 1911, to use the "trick" of +gauze and queer lights; there was only one supreme thing done--to make the +audience feel that_ PETER _was on a plane far removed from the physical, +by the ease and naturalness with which he slipped past objects, looked +through people, and was unheeded by those whom he most wanted to +influence. The remarkable unity of idea sustained by Mr. Belasco as +manager, and by Mr. Warfield as actor, was largely instrumental in making +the play a triumph. The playwright did not attempt to create supernatural +mood; he did not resort to natural tricks such as Maeterlinck used in +"L'Intruse," or as Mansfield employed in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." He +reduced what to us seems, at the present moment, a complicated explanation +of a psychic condition to its simple terms, and there was nothing strange +to the eye or unusual in the situation. One cannot approach the theme of +the psychic without a personal concern. Sardou's "Spiritisme" was the +culmination of years of investigation; the subject was one with which +Belasco likewise has had much to do during the past years. + +It is a privilege to be able to publish "Peter Grimm." Thus far not many +of the Belasco plays are available in reading form. "May Blossom" and +"Madame Butterfly" are the only ones. "Peter Grimm" has been novelized--in +the day, now fortunately past, when a play was novelized in preference to +perpetuating its legitimate form. And excerpts from the dialogue have been +used. But this is the first time the complete text has appeared and it has +been carefully edited by the author himself. In addition to which Mr. +Belasco has written the following account of "Peter's" evolution, to be +used in this edition. + + +The play, "The Return of Peter Grimm," is an expression in dramatic +form of my ideas on a subject which I have pondered over since +boyhood: "Can the dead come back?" _Peter Grimm_ did come back. At +the same time, I inserted a note in my program to say that I +advanced no positive opinion; that the treatment of the play allowed +the audience to believe that it had actually seen _Peter_, or that +he had not been seen but existed merely in the minds of the +characters on the stage. Spiritualists from all over the country +flocked to see "The Return of Peter Grimm," and I have heard that it +gave comfort to many. It was a difficult theme, and more than once I +was tempted to give it up. But since it has given relief to those +who have loved and lost, it was not written in vain. Victorian +Sardou dealt with the same subject, but he did not show the return +of the dead; instead, he delivered a spirit message by means of +knocking on a table. His play was not a success, and I was warned by +my friends to let the subject alone; but it is a subject that I +never can or never have let alone; yet I never went to a medium in +my 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. Although +mediums have been exposed since the beginning of time, and so-called +"spiritualism" has fallen into disrepute over and over again, it +emerges triumphantly in spite of charlatans, and once more becomes +the theme of the hour. + +The subject first interested me when, as a boy, I read a story in +which the dead "foretold dangers to loved ones." My mother had +"premonitions" which were very remarkable, and I was convinced, at +the time, that the dead gave these messages to her. She personally +could not account for them. I probably owe my life to one of my +mother's premonitions. I was going on a steamboat excursion with my +school friends, when my mother had a strong presentiment of danger, +and begged me not to go. She gave in to my entreaties, however, much +against her will. Just as the boat was about to leave the pier, a +vision of her pale face and tear-filled eyes came to me. I heard her +voice repeating, "I wish you would not go, Davy." The influence was +so strong that I dashed down the gang-plank as it was being pulled +in. The boat met with disaster, and many of the children were killed +or wounded. These premonitions have also come to me, but I do not +believe as I did when a boy that they are warnings from the dead, +although I cannot explain them, and they are never wrong; the +message is always very clear. + +My mother convinced me that the dead come back by coming to me at +the 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 to +me. She seemed to be clothed in white. She repeated my name over and +over--the name she called me in my boyhood: "Davy! Davy!" She told +me not to grieve--that she was dying; that she _had_ to see me. I +distinctly saw her and heard her speak. + +She was in San Francisco at the time--I, in New York. After she +passed out of the room, I roused my family and told what I had heard +and seen. I said: "My mother is dead. I know she is dead;" but I +could not convince my family that I had not been dreaming. I was +very restless--could not sleep again. The next day (we were +rehearsing "Zaza") I went out for luncheon during the recess with a +member of my company. He was a very absent-minded man, and at the +table he took a telegram from his pocket which he said he had +forgotten to give me: it announced the death of my mother at the +time I had seen her in my room. I am aware that this could be +explained as thought transference, accompanied by a dream in which +my mother appeared so life-like as to make me believe the dream +real. This explanation, however, does not satisfy me. I am sure that +I did see her. Other experiences of a kindred nature served to +strengthen my belief in the naturalness of what we call the +supernatural. I decided to write a play dealing with the return of +the dead: so it followed that when I was in need of a new play for +David Warfield, I chose this subject. Slight of figure, unworldly, +simple in all his ways, Warfield was the very man to bring a message +back from the other world. Warfield has always appeared to me as a +character out of one of Grimm's Fairy Tales. He was, to my mind, the +one man to impersonate a spirit and make it seem real. So my desire +to write a play of the dead, and my belief in Warfield's artistry +culminated in "The Return of Peter Grimm." The subject was very +difficult, and the greatest problem confronting me was to preserve +the illusion of a spirit while actually using a living person. The +apparition of the ghost in "Hamlet" and in "Macbeth," the spirits +who return to haunt _Richard III_, and other ghosts of the theatre +convinced me that green lights and dark stages with spot-lights +would not give the illusion necessary to this play. All other +spirits have been visible to someone on the stage, but_ PETER _was +visible to none, save the dog (who wagged his tail as his master +returned from the next world) and to _Frederik_, the nephew, who was +to see him but for a second._ PETER _was to be in the same room with +the members of the household, and to come into close contact with +them. They were to feel his influence without seeing him. He was to +move among them, even appear to touch them, but they were to look +past him or above him--never into his face. He must, of course, be +visible to the audience. My problem, then, was to reveal a dead man +worrying about his earthly home, trying to enlist the aid of +anybody--everybody--to take his message. Certainly no writer ever +chose a more difficult task; I must say that I was often very much +discouraged, but something held me to the work in spite of myself. +The choice of an occupation for my leading character was very +limited. I gave_ PETER _various trades and professions, none of +which seemed to suit the part, until I made him a quaint old +Dutchman, a nursery-man who loved his garden and perennials--the +flowers that pass away and return season after season. This gave a +clue to his character; gave him the right to found his belief in +immortality 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 the +play in the month of April; April with its swift transitions from +bright sunlight to the darkness of passing clouds and showers. April +weather furnished a natural reason for raising and lowering the +lights--that the dead could come and go at will, seen or unseen. The +passing rain-storms blended with the tears of those weeping for +their loved ones. A man who comes back must not have a commonplace +name--a name suggestive of comedy--and I think I must have read over +every Dutch name that ever came out of Holland before I selected the +name 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 was +a 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 be +dear to all old-fashioned, home-loving people--unlike a room of the +present, from which every memento of parents and grand-parents would +be banished in favour of strictly modern or antique formal +furniture. In this room, the things of _Peter's_ father mingled with +those of _Peter's_ boyhood and young manhood. This was done in order +that the influence of his familiar belongings might be felt by the +people 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 any +of the familiar objects dear to her because of their associations,_ +PETER _was brought vividly back to her mind, although she could not +see him. + +_Peter's_ clothing was selected with unusual care so that it would +not catch the reflection from the lights. Months of preparation and +weeks 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 been +to me more than mere illumination. It is a revelation of the heart +and soul of the story. It points the way. Lights should be to the +play what the musical accompaniment is to the singer. A wordless +story could be told by lights. Lights should be mixed as a painter +mixes his colours--a bit of pink here, of blue there; a touch of +red, a lavender or a deep purple, with shadows intervening to give +the desired effect. Instead of throwing a mysterious light upon the +figure of _Peter_, I decided to reverse the process and put no +lights on him. The light was on the other people--the people still +in life, with just enough amber to give them colour. + +The play was cut and cut until there was not a superfluous line in +it. Every word was necessary, although it might not have seemed so +when read. It was only after the play was recalled as a whole, that +the necessity for everything could be seen. The coming of the circus +with the clown singing "Uncle Rat has come to town," and the noise +of the drums, are instances of this. It seemed like halting the +action to bring in a country circus procession, but its necessity is +shown in the final scene when the little boy, _William_, passes +away. It is always cruel to see a child die on the stage. The +purpose of the coming of the circus was to provide a pleasant memory +for the child to recall as his mind wandered away from earth, and to +have his death a happy one. This was made more effective when Peter +took up the refrain of the song as though he knew what was passing +in the dying boy's mind, showing that the dead have their own world +and their own understanding. + +No company of players ever had situations so fraught with danger of +failure. They were very nervous. Mr. Warfield appeared in the part +for several weeks before he felt at ease as the living man who +returns as his own spirit. + +There is one memory associated with the play which will remain in my +heart as long as it beats. This piece was written during the last +year-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 know +it. When the manuscript was finished, she kept it by her side, and, +notwithstanding her illness, saw the dress rehearsal. During the +writing of the play, she often said, "Yes, father, it is all true. I +believe every word of it." It was as though the thought embodied in +the play gave her comfort. When we discovered how ill she was, I +took her to Asheville, North Carolina, thinking the climate would +help her. She grew worse. Still hoping, we went to Colorado, and +there I lost her. + +It has seemed to me since that the inspiration compelling me to go +on with "Peter Grimm," in spite of its difficulties, came from this +daughter who died. + +I cannot close this reminiscence of "The Return of Peter Grimm" +without acknowledging the help and inspiration received from David +Warfield, without whose genius and personality the play would not +have been possible. + + +I doubt whether Mr. Belasco has ever infused so much imaginative ingenuity +into the structure and picture of a play. Even in the reading, its quaint +charm is instantly revealed. We quite agree with Winter in saying that the +effectiveness of the role of_ PETER _lies in its simplicity. This was the +triumph of Warfield's interpretation. It may have been difficult to attain +the desired effects, but once reached, technical skill did the rest. It +will be noted on the program that credit is given for an idea to Mr. Cecil +DeMille, son of Mr. Belasco's former collaborator. "The Return of Peter +Grimm" was scheduled for production in London by Sir Herbert Tree, but +plans were cut short by that actor's sudden death, July 2, 1917. + +Mr. Belasco's interest in the psychic and the supernatural has been seen +in other plays, notably in "The Case of Becky," by Edward Locke, and in +Henry Bernstein's "The Secret"--example of Belasco's most skilled +adaptation from the French, though we remember the excellence of his +version of Berton and Simon's "Zaza." That he thought Warfield admirably +suited to this type of play was one of the chief incentives which +prompted 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 given +in New York.[A] + +[Footnote A: Some of Mr. Belasco's recent opinions regarding the stage +have been published in book form, under the title, "The Theatre through +its Stage Door" (Harper).] + + +[Illustration: BELASCO THEATRE + +FORTY FOURTH STREET near BROADWAY +Under the Sole Management of DAVID BELASCO + +BEGINNING TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 17, 1911. +Matinees Thursday and Saturday. + +DAVID BELASCO +Presents +DAVID 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 thing +that tells in the long run; nothing else endures to the end." + +CAST OF CHARACTERS. + +PETER GRIMM..................................DAVID WARFIELD +FREDERIK, his nephew.........................JOHN SAINPOLIS +JAMES HARTMAN................................THOMAS MEIGHAN +ANDREW MacPHERSON............................JOSEPH BRENNAN +REV. HENRY BATHOLOMMEY.........................WILLIAM BOAG +COLONEL TOM LAWTON...........................JOHN F. WEBBER +WILLEM.........................................PERCY HELTON +KATHRIEN.......................................JANET DUNBAR +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY................................MARIE BATES +MARTA.......................................MARIE REICHARDT +THE 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 at +Grimm Manor, a small town in New York State, founded by early settlers +from Holland. + +The first act takes place at eleven o'clock in the morning, on a fine +spring day. + +The second act passes ten days later, towards the close of a rainy +afternoon. + +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 the +probability of the return of the main character of this play. For the +many, it may be said that he could exist only in the minds of the +characters grouped about him--in their subconscious memories. For _the +few_, his presence will embody the theory of the survival of persistent +personal energy. This character has, so far as possible, been treated to +accord with either thought. The initial idea of the play was first +suggested as a dramatic possibility by Mr. Cecil DeMille, to whom Mr. +Belasco acknowledges his indebtedness. A conversation with Professor +James, of Harvard, and the works of Professor Hyslop of the American +branch 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 granting +permission to include "The Return of Peter Grimm" in the present +Collection. All its rights are fully secured, and proceedings will +immediately be taken against any one attempting to infringe them.] + + +ACT I. + +_The scene shows a comfortable living-room in an old house. The furniture +was brought to America by _PETER GRIMM'S_ ancestors. The _GRIMMS_ were, +for the most part, frugal people, but two or three fine paintings have +been inherited by _PETER_. + +_A small, old-fashioned piano stands near the open window, a few +comfortable chairs, a desk with a hanging lamp above it, and an arm-chair +in front of it, a quaint old fireplace, a Dutch wall clock with weights, a +sofa, 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 a +table. 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. "Peter +Grimm's Botanic Gardens" supply seeds, plants, shrubbery and trees to the +wholesale, as well as retail trade, and the view suggests the importance +of the industry. An old Dutch windmill, erected by a Colonial ancestor, +gives a quaint touch, to the picture. Although _PETER GRIMM_ is a very +wealthy man, he lives as simply as his ancestors._ + +_As the curtain is raised, the room is empty; but _CATHERINE_ is +heard singing in the dining-room. _JAMES HARTMAN, PETER'S_ secretary, +opens his door to listen, a small bundle of letters in his +hand. 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 into +the office, leaving the door ajar. Presently _CATHERINE_ enters. In +spite of her youth and girlish appearance, she is a good, thrifty +housekeeper. She wears a simple summer gown, and carries a +bunch of gay tulips and an old silver pitcher, from which she presently +pours water into the Harlequin Delft vase on _PETER GRIMM'S_ desk. She +peeps 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 done +outside work and I prefer it; but I would shovel dirt rather than work for +any one else. + +CATHERINE. [_Amused._] James! + +JAMES. It's true. When the train reached the Junction, and a boy presented +the passengers with the usual flower and the "compliments of Peter +Grimm"--it took me back to the time when that was my job; and when I saw +the old sign, "Grimm's Botanic Gardens and Nurseries"--I wanted to jump +off the train and run through the grounds. It seemed as though every tulip +called "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 the +dirt in overalls--a gardener--all his life; and, of course, he +over-estimates an education. He's far more intelligent than most of our +college professors. + +CATHERINE. I understand why you came back. You simply must live where +things grow, mustn't you, James? So must I. Have you seen our orchids? + +JAMES. Orchids are pretty; but they're doing wonderful things with +potatoes these days. I'd rather improve the breed of a squash than to have +an orchid named after me. Wonderful discovery of Luther Burbank's-- +creating an edible cactus. Sometimes I feel bitter thinking what I might +have done with vegetables, when I was wasting time studying Greek. + +CATHERINE. [_Changing suddenly._] James: why don't you try to please Uncle +Peter Grimm? + +JAMES. I do; but he is always asking my opinion, and when I give it, he +blows up. + +CATHERINE. [_Coaxingly._] Don't be quite so blunt. Try to be like one of +the 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's +good to see you again. + +_He is still holding her hand when _FREDERIK GRIMM_ enters. He is the son +of _PETER'S_ dead sister, and has been educated by_ PETER _to carry on his +work. He is a graduate of Amsterdam College, Holland, and, in appearance +and manner, suggests the foreign student. He has managed to pull through +college creditably, making a specialty of botany._ PETER _has given him +the usual trip through Europe, and_ FREDERIK _has come to his rich uncle +to settle down and learn his business. He has been an inmate of the +household for a few months. He poses as a most industrious young man, but +is, at heart, a shirker._ + +FREDERIK. Where's Uncle? + +JAMES. Good-morning, Frederik. Your uncle's watching father spray the plum +trees. The black knot's after them again. + +FREDERIK. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Uncle wakes me up every morning +at five--creaking down the old stairs. [_Eyeing_ CATHERINE _admiringly._] +You're looking uncommonly pretty this morning, Kitty. [CATHERINE _edges +away and runs upstairs to her room._ + +FREDERIK. Hartman! + +JAMES. Yes? + +FREDERIK. Miss Catherine and you and I are no longer children--our +positions are altered--please remember that. I'm no longer a student home +for the holidays from Amsterdam College. I'm here to learn the business +which I am expected to carry on. Miss Catherine is a young lady now, and +my uncle looks upon her as his daughter. You are here as my uncle's +secretary. 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 in +our 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. I +am 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 on +the 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's +changing foliage with the years. + +FREDERIK. He's growing as old-fashioned as his hats. In my opinion, this +would be the time to sell. + +JAMES. [_Astonished._] Sell? Sell a business that has been in his family +for--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 from +Hicks, 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 the +peach orchard: "Johann Grimm, of Holland, an upright settler." There isn't +a 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--a +peddler 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--he +certainly knows his business. [_Changing._] God! It's an awful thought +that 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 dress +in the past thirty years. His clothing, collar, tie, hat and shoes are all +old-fashioned. He is an estimable man, scrupulously honest, gentle and +sympathetic; 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 in +our mid-summer floral almanac. + +PETER. [_Who has hung up his hat on his own particular peg, affably +assenting._] 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._] We +mustn'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 little +private room with James, or when I've slipped out to the hothouses,--you +are representing me in the offices--_young_ Mr. Grimm.... James, are you +ready for me? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. I'll attend to the mail in a moment. [_Missing_ CATHERINE, _he +calls according to the household signal._] Ou--oo! [_He is answered by_ +CATHERINE, _who immediately appears from her room, and comes running +downstairs._] Catherine, I have news for you. I've named the new rose +after you: "Katie--a hardy bloomer." It's as red as the ribbon in your +hair. + +CATHERINE. Thank you, Uncle Peter, thank you very much. And now you must +have 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 give +you 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 husband +would you prefer? + +CATHERINE. [_Annoyed,--with girlish impatience._] You're always speaking +of 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, my +grandmother's linen-chest upstairs must be used again for you +[_Impulsively drawing_ CATHERINE _to him._], my house fairy. [_Kisses +her._] There, I mustn't tease her. But I leave it to Fritz if I don't owe +her 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_ do +everything for _me_. + +PETER. Ah, but who lays out my linen? Who puts flowers on my desk every +day? Who gets up at dawn to eat breakfast with me? Who sees that I have my +second cup of coffee? But better than all that--who brings youth into my +old house? + +CATHERINE. That's not much--youth. + +PETER. No? We'll leave it to Fritz. [FREDERIK, _amused, listens in +silence._] What should I be now--a rough old fellow--a bachelor--without +youth in my house, eh? God knows! Katie has softened me towards all the +ladies--er--mellowed me as time has mellowed my old pictures. [_Points to +pictures._] And I was growing hard--hard and fussy. + +CATHERINE. [_Laughing._] Ah, Uncle Peter, have I made you take a liking to +all the rest of the ladies? + +PETER. Yes. It's just as it is when you have a pet: you like all that +breed. You can only see _your_ kind of kitten. + +JAMES. [_Coming down a step, impressed by_ PETER'S _remark--speaking +earnestly._] That's so, sir. [_The others are surprised._] I hadn't +thought of it in that way, but it's true. You study a girl for the first +time, and presently you notice the same little traits in every one of +them. It makes you feel differently towards all the rest. + +PETER. [_Amused._] Why, James, what do you know about girls? "Bachelor" is +stamped 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 order +a three-rib roast, who's to eat it? I never had a proper roast until Katie +and Frederik came to make up my family; [_Rubbing his hands._] but the +roasts are not big enough. [_Giving_ FREDERIK _a knowing look._] We must +find 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 the +plates 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, the +gardens 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. [_Then +changing._] Is it--er--a good offer? Is Hicks willing to make it worth +while? [_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 should +say not! + +FREDERIK. Mere curiosity on my part, that's all. + +PETER. Of course, I understand. Sell out? No indeed. We are thinking of +the next generation. + +FREDERIK. Certainly, sir. + +PETER. We're the last of the family. The business--that's Peter Grimm. It +will 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 our +new 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 Quassick +Creek, New York State, Johann Grimm, aged twenty-two, husbandman and +vine-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 almost +suffused--repeating each word to himself, as she reads. He has lived over +each generation down to the present and nods in approval as she reaches +this point._] The foundation of our house. And here we are prosperous and +flourishing--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 in +the book. [_To_ CATHERINE _--slyly--as she closes the book._] If my sister +could see Frederik, what a proud mother she would be! + +JAMES. [_Turning from the 'phone to_ PETER.] Old man Hicks himself has +come 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 plum +trees? [_Listens._] Bad, eh? Well, we can only pray and use Bordeaux +Mixture.... No.... Nonsense! This business has been in my family for seven +generations. Why sell? I'll see that it stays in the family seven +generations longer! [_Echoing._] Do I propose to live that long? N--no; +but my plans will. [_Looks towards_ FREDERIK _and_ CATHERINE.] How? Never +mind. 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--standing +with the pot in his hands._] And remember the saying: [_A twinkle in his +upraised eyes._] "Thou, O God, sellest all good things at the price of +labour." [_Smells the tulips and sets them down._ + +FREDERIK. [_Goes briskly towards the door._] That's true, sir. I want to +speak to you later, Uncle--[_Turning, looking at_ JAMES.] on a private +matter. [_He goes off looking at his watch, as though he had a hard day's +work before him._ + +PETER. [_Looking after_ FREDERIK.] Very capable young fellow, Frederik. I +was a happy man, James, when I heard that he had won the prize for botany +at 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 to +James. We used to have him to dinner very often before he went away. Now +that 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, will +you 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._] Fresh +green herbs in the dressing and a Figaro pudding. Marta brought over that +pudding receipt from Holland. + +MARTA, _an old family servant, has entered with the air of having +forgotten to wind the clock. She smiles happily at_ PETER'S _allusion to +her 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 coming +out lately, James? + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. You've noticed it, too? [_Picks up another letter, looking over +it._ + +JAMES. Yes, sir. + +PETER. [_Pausing, taking off his eye-glasses and holding them on his +thumb. Philosophically._] How prettily Nature accomplishes her will-- +making a girl doubly beautiful that a young man may yield his freedom the +more easily. Wonderful! [_During the following, he glances over letters._] +A young girl is like a violet sheltered under a bush, James; and that is +as 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 free +beings and-- + +PETER. Free? Of course Katie's free--to a certain extent. Do you mean to +tell me that any young girl should be freer? Nonsense! She should be happy +that _I_ am here to think for her--_I_! _We_ must think for people who +can't think for themselves; and a young girl can't. [_Signing an answer to +a 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't +think for others--any more than we can eat or sleep for them. + +PETER. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... I see what you +mean. + +JAMES. Of course, every happy being is bound by its nature to lead its own +life--that it may be a free being. Evidently I didn't make my meaning +clear. [_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. Cultivate +sentiment. [_Signing the letter._] Happy? Has it ever occurred to you that +Katie 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 towards +Frederik. + +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 the +house--[_Touching his chest._] to guard her--to watch over her. Leave it +to _me_. [_Enthusiastically._] Sit here, James. Take one of Frederik's +cigars. [JAMES _politely thanks him, but doesn't take one._] It's a +pleasure 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 carry +out my plans-- + +CATHERINE. [_Sticking her head in the door._] Ready for coffee? + +PETER. Er--a little later. Close the door, dear. [_She disappears, closing +the door._] In order to carry out my plans, I have had to use great +diplomacy. I made up my mind to keep Katie in the family; being a rich +man--everybody knows it--I've had to guard against fortune-hunters. +However, I think I've done away with them, for the whole town understands +that 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 bring +Catherine up to keep her in the family, and it has been fulfilled. My +plans 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 time +you'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 I +have the greatest respect for your opinion; but you can't mate people as +you'd graft tulips. And more than once, I've--I've caught her crying and +I've thought perhaps ... + +PETER. [_Pooh-poohing._] Crying? Of course! Was there ever a girl who +didn't cry?... You amuse me ... with your ideas of life.... Ha! Haven't I +asked her why she was crying,--and hasn't she always said: "I don't know +why--it's nothing." They love to cry. [_Signs the last letter._] But +that's what they all cry over--nothing. James, do you know how I happened +to 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 queer +notions. You are young, but see that you don't need the Doctor, James. Do +you know how I was cured? I'll tell you. One day, when I had business in +the city, the Doctor went with me, and before I knew what he was at--he +had marched me into a home for babies.... Katie was nearest the door--the +first one. Pinned over her crib was her name: "Catherine Staats, aged +three months." She held out her little arms ... so friendless--so +pitiful--so alone--and I was done for. We brought her back home, the +Doctor, a nurse and I. The first time I carried her up those stairs--all +my fine bachelor's ideas went out of my head. I knew then that my theories +were all humbug. I had missed the child in the house who was to teach me +everything. I had missed many children in my house. From that day, I +watched over her life. [_Rising, pointing towards the head of the +stairs._] James, I was born in this house--in the little room where I +sleep; and her children shall one day play in the room in which I was +born.... That's very pretty, eh? [_Wipes his eyes, sentimentally._] I've +always 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 children +shall play, so long as they play happily. + +PETER. What? Her children can play anywhere--in China if they want to! Are +you 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 keep +my household together, by your leave. [_Banging his clenched fist on the +desk._] It's my plan. [_Cleans his pipe, looking at_ JAMES _from time to +time._ 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 is +pastoor's dag."_ (It is the pastor's day.)] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It's +William's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_ +PETER _calls "Come in,"_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, stands +timidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand._] How are you +to-day, William? [_Pats_ WILLIAM _on the shoulder._ + +WILLIAM. The Doctor says I'm well now. + +PETER. Good! Then you shall take flowers to the church. [_Calls off._] A +big armful, Otto! + +MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which she +tucks into_ WILLIAM'S _breast pocket._ + +PETER. [_In a low voice, to_ JAMES.] There's your example of freedom! +William's mother, old Marta's spoiled child, was free. You remember +Annamarie, James?--let to come and go as she pleased. God knows where she +is now ... and here is William with the poor old grandmother.... Run along +with the flowers, William. [_Gives_ WILLIAM _some pennies as he goes._] +How he shoots up, eh, Marta? + +MARTA. [_With the hopeless sorrow of the old, as she passes off._] +Poor child ... poor child. + +PETER. Give Katie more freedom, eh? Oh, no! I shall guard her as I would +guard my own, for she is as dear to me as though she were mine, and, by +marriage, please God, she shall be a Grimm in _name_. + +JAMES. Mr. Grimm, I--I wish you would transfer me to your branch house in +Florida. + +PETER. What? You who were so glad to come back! James, you need a holiday. +Close your desk. Go out and busy yourself with those pet vegetables of +yours. Change your ideas; then come back sane and sensible, and attend to +your work. [_Giving a last shot at_ JAMES _as he passes into the office +and_ FREDERIK _re-enters._] You don't know what you want! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking after_ JAMES.] Uncle Peter, when I came in this +morning, I made up my mind to speak to you of James. + +PETER. James? + +FREDERIK. Yes, I've wondered lately if ... it seems to me that James is +interested in Catherine. + +PETER. James? Impossible. + +FREDERIK. I'm not so sure. + +PETER. [_Good-naturedly._] James? James Hartman? + +FREDERIK. When I look back and remember him as a barefoot boy living in a +shack behind our hot-houses--and see him now--in here with you-- + +PETER. All the more credit, Frederik. + +FREDERIK. Yes; but these are the sort of fellows who dream of getting into +the firm. And there 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 think +of 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 shrewd +glance; but_ PETER, _suspecting nothing, continues._] I meant ... has +James shown any special interest in you? + +CATHERINE. [_As though accepting the explanation._] Oh ... [_Flurried._] +Why, Uncle Peter!... Uncle Peter!... whatever put this notion into your +head? + +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,--if +that's what you mean. He has always been very respectful in a perfectly +friendly way. + +PETER. [_Convinced._] Respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_To_ +FREDERIK.] You can't ask more than that. Thank you, dear, that's all I +wanted. Run along. [_Glad to escape,_ CATHERINE _leaves the room._] He was +only respectful in a perfectly friendly way. [_Slaps_ FREDERIK _on the +back._] 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 as +day. He's trying to make love to her under our very eyes. I saw him. I +wish you would ask him to stay in his office and attend to his own +business. [JAMES _now re-enters on his way to the gardens._] + +PETER. James, it has just occurred to me--that--[_James pauses._] What +was your reason for wanting to give up your position? Had it anything to +do 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, do +you 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 at +the desk._] Get your money at the office. You may have that position in +Florida. 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 her +good-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, and +perhaps 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 he +passes him._] Hy're you, Jim? Glad Jim's back. One of the finest lads I +ever 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 exceedingly +intellectual. He is the rare type of doctor who forgets to make out his +bills. He has a grizzled grey beard, and his hair is touched with grey. He +wears silver-rimmed spectacles. His substantial but unpressed clothing is +made 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 and +leaves 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 have +you done? [_Casually_.] Were you to die,--say to-morrow,--how would it be +with--[_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, but +every one must come to it--sooner or later. I mean--what would Katie's +position be in this house? I know you've set your heart upon her marrying +Frederik, and all that sort of nonsense, but will it work? I've always +thought '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, but +supposing 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 tell +you. No cause for apprehension, but-- + +PETER. Then why tell me? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When I cured you of that cold--wet flowerbeds--two days +ago, I made a discovery. [_Seeing_ CATHERINE _enter, he pauses. She is +followed by_ MARTA, _carrying a tray containing coffee and a plate of +waffles_.] Coffee! I told you not to touch coffee, Peter. It's rank +poison. + +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 plate +and more waffles, and_ CATHERINE _follows her_.] Now, Andrew, you can't +tell me that I'm sick. I won't have it. Every day we hear of some old boy +one 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 babies +creeping on my old floor; playing with my old watch-dog, Toby. I've +promised myself a long line of rosy Grimms. + +DR. MACPHERSON. My God, Peter! That dog is fifteen years old now. Do you +expect 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 old +age. [_Markedly, though feigning to treat the subject lightly_.] Er-- +Peter, I should like to make a compact with you ... that whoever _does_ go +first--and you're quite likely to outlive me,--is to come back and let the +other fellow know ... and settle the question. Splendid test between old +neighbours--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 for +any assistance in your spook tests. + +DR. MACPHERSON. And how many times do you think _you've_ been a spook +yourself? You can't tell me that man is perfect; that he doesn't live more +than one life; that the soul doesn't go on and on. Pshaw! The persistent +personal energy must continue, or what _is_ God? [CATHERINE _has +re-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 to +hear it. [_To_ DR. MACPHERSON.] Andrew, I'll stay behind, contented in +_this_ life; knowing what I have here on earth, and you shall die and +return with your--ha!--persistent personal whatever-it-is, and keep the +spook compact. Every time a knock sounds, or a chair squeaks, or the door +bangs, 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 to +promise, too. Understand that I am not a so-called spiritist. I am merely +a seeker after truth. [_Puts more sugar in his coffee_. + +PETER. That's what they _all_ are--seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do you +really believe such stuff? + +DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here--here--near +us--close at hand. [PETER, _in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peeps +under 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 waste +their lives dreaming of the world to come. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You can't call Sir Charles Crookes, the inventor of +Crookes Tubes,--a waster? Nor Sir Oliver Lodge, the great biologist; nor +Curie, the discoverer of radium; nor Doctor Lombroso, the founder of +Science of Criminology; nor Doctors Maxwell, deVesme, Richet, Professor +James, of Harvard, and our own Professor Hyslop. Instead of laughing at +ghosts, the scientific men of to-day are trying to lay hold of them. The +frauds and cheats are being crowded from the field. Science is only just +peeping 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 take +it to the police station. That's the proper place for frauds. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I'm sorry, Peter, very sorry, to see that you, like too +many others, make a jest of the most important thing in life. Hyslop is +right: man will spend millions to discover the North Pole, but not a penny +to discover his immortal destiny. + +PETER. [_Stubbornly_.] I don't believe in spook mediums and never shall +believe in them. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Probably most professional mediums cheat--perhaps every +one 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 old +friends come straight back to me and say, "Peter Grimm, here I am!" When +they do--if they do--I shall be the first man to take off my hat to them +and hold out my hand in welcome. + +DR. MACPHERSON. You ask me why? Why can't a telegram travel on a fence +instead of on a wire? Your friends could come back to you if you could put +yourself in a receptive condition; but if you cannot, you must depend upon +a medium--a sensitive. + +PETER. A what? [_To_ CATHERINE.] Something new, eh? He has all the names +for them. Yesterday it was "apports"--flowers that fell down from nowhere +and hit you on the nose. He talks like a medium's parrot. He has only to +close his eyes and along comes the parade. Spooks! Spooky spooks! And now +he 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 seen +a good many cross to the other world; tell me--did you ever see one of +them come back--one? + +DR. MACPHERSON. No. + +PETER. [_Sipping his coffee_.] Never have, eh? And never will. Take +another cup of poison, Andrew. + +_The_ DOCTOR _gives his cup to_ CATHERINE, _who fills it_. PETER _passes +the waffles to the_ DOCTOR, _at the same time winking at_ CATHERINE _as +the_ DOCTOR _takes another_. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There was not perhaps the intimate bond between doctor and +patients 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 to +hear him tell of-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I have known of a return such as you mention. A distant +cousin 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 the +telephone, why cannot a soul with a God-given force behind it dart over +the entire universe? Is Thomas Edison greater than God? + +CATHERINE. [_Shocked_.] Doctor! + +DR. MACPHERSON. And they can't tuck it _all_ on telepathy. Telepathy +cannot explain the case of a spirit-message giving the contents of a +sealed letter known only to the person that died. Here's another +interesting 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, _who +is all attention_.] An officer on the Polar vessel, the _Jeannette_, sent +to the Artic regions by the New York _Herald_, appeared at his wife's +bedside. _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 the +vision. + +PETER. A bad dream. "Six bells and the"--Ha! Ha! Spirit messages! Suet +pudding has brought me messages from the North Pole, and I receive +messages from Kingdom Come after I've eaten a piece of mince pie. + +DR. MACPHERSON. There have been seventeen thousand other cases found to be +worth investigation by the London Society of Psychical Research. + +PETER. [_Changing_.] Supposing, Andrew, that I did "cross over"--I believe +that's what you call dying,--that I _did_ want to come back to see how you +and the little Katie and Frederik were getting on, how do you think I +could manage to do it? + +DR. MACPHERSON. When we hypnotize subjects, Peter, our thoughts take +possession of them. As we enter their bodies, we take the place of a +something that leaves them--a shadow-self. This self can be sent out of +the room--even to a long distance. This self leaves us entirely after +death on the first, second or third day, or so I believe. This is the +force 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 astral +envelope. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Easily_.] De Rochas has actually photographed it by +radio-photography. + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mind you--they couldn't _see_ it when they photographed +it. + +PETER. I imagine not. See it? Ho! Ho! + +DR. MACPHERSON. It stood a few feet away from the sleeper, and was located +by striking at the air and watching for the corresponding portion of the +sleeper's body to recoil. By pricking a certain part of this shadow-self +with a pin, the cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. The camera +was focussed on this part of the shadow-self for fifteen minutes. The +result was the profile of a head. + +PETER. [_After a pause_.] ... You believe that? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The experiment has been repeated again and again. Nobody +acquainted with the subject denies it now. + +PETER. Spook pictures taken by professional mediums! [_Turning away from +the table as though he had heard enough._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. De Rochas, who took the pictures of which I speak, is a +lawyer of standing; and the room was full of scientists who saw the +pictures taken. + +PETER. Hypnotized--all of them. Humbug, Andrew! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Under these conditions, it is quite impossible to +hypnotize a room full of people. Perhaps you think the camera was +hypnotized? In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural current +of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several +degrees. 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 set +to shivery music. [_Sings_.] Tol! Dol! Dol! Dol! [_Rising to get his pipe +and tobacco_.] No, sir! I refuse to agree to your compact. You cannot pick +the lock of heaven's gate. We don't come back. God did enough for us when +he gave us life and strength to work and the work to do. He owes us no +explanations. 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 that +men have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism, +daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy and +lighting by gas. [_Showing feeling_.] I'm very much disappointed that you +refuse my request. + +PETER. [_Laying down his pipe on the table_.] Since you take it so +seriously--here--[_Offers his hand_.] I'll agree. I know you're an old +fool--and I'm another. Now then--[_Shakes hands._] it's settled. +Whichever one shall go first--[_He bursts into laughter--then controlling +himself_.] 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_.], let +us 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 and +I 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 and +entered. She is about forty years of age. Her faded brown hair is streaked +with grey. She wears a plain black alpaca costume._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Agitated_.] Good-morning, Doctor. Fortunate that I +found 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 minister +of the Dutch Reformed Church._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Hy're, Henry? + +_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _bows._ WILLIAM _has returned from his errand +and entered the room,--a picture-book under his arm. He sits up by the +window, absorbed in the pictures--unnoticed by the others._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Closing the door left open by_ PETER, _shutting out +the sound of his voice_.] Well, Doctor ... [_She pauses for a moment to +catch her breath and wipe her eyes_.] I suppose you've told him he's got +to die. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Eyeing_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _with disfavour_.] Who's got to +die? + +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 things +to his wife. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Doctor! + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With solicitude_.] I greatly grieve to hear that +Mr. Grimm has an incurable malady. His heart, I understand. [_Shakes his +head._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. He's not to be told. Is that clear? He may die in twenty +minutes--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 wonder +you Doctors don't baptize the babies. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. At the last minute, he'll want to make a will--and you +know he hasn't made one. He'll want to remember the church and his +charities and his friends; and if he dies before he can carry out his +intentions, 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 your +own affairs. Did you never hear the story of the lady who flattened her +nose--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 any +attention 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 jug +on the sideboard and hangs up the key. The_ BATHOLOMMEYS _look sadly at_ +PETER. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _in the fore-ground tries to smile pleasantly, but +can only assume the peculiarly pained expression of a person about to +break terrible news._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising to the occasion--warmly grasping_ PETER'S +_hand_.] Ah, my dear friend! Many thanks for the flowers William brought +us, and the noble cheque you sent me. We're still enjoying the vegetables +you 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't +mean that--I-- + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Cheerily_.] Of course, she does; and why not, why +not, dear friend? + +PETER. Will you have a glass of my plum brandy? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly_.] No, thank you. As you know, I belong to the +W.C.T.U. + +PETER. Pastor? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Tolerantly_.] No, thank you. I am also opposed to +er-- + +PETER. We're going to drink to spooks--the Doctor and I. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With a startled cry_.] Oh! [_Lifts her handkerchief to +her eyes_.] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea--you of +all people! + +PETER. [_Coming down with two glasses--handing one to the_ DOCTOR.] You +seem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a trifle +nervous 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 you +were. + +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's +too 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 the +F-- 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 very +contented 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 a +typical 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 looks +out 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 at +the window. The music comes nearer and nearer--the parade is supposed to +be passing._ WILLIAM _gives a cry of delight as a clown appears at the +window with handbills under his arm._ + +THE CLOWN. [_As he throws the handbills into the room_.] Billy Miller's +big show and monster circus is in town this afternoon. Only one ring. No +confusion. [_Seeing_ WILLIAM.] Circus day comes but once a year, little +sir. 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 the +voices of shouting children are heard as they run after him._ + +PETER. [_Putting his hand in his pocket_.] We'll go. You may buy the +tickets, William--two front seats. [FREDERIK _re-enters with a floral +catalogue._ + +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. [_Pointing +to_ 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've +got to die, Mr. Grimm. + +_There is a pause._ PETER _stops short, looking at_ WILLIAM. _The others +are startled, but stand motionless, watching the effect of_ WILLIAM'S +_revelation._ FREDERIK _doesn't know what to make of it. There is an +ominous silence in the room. Then_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _whose smile has been +frozen 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 you +think 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 _now +understands 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 his +eyes on the_ CLERGYMAN _who is looking at him warningly. The tears run +down his cheeks--he puts his fingers to his lips--afraid to speak_.] Don't +be frightened. You heard the Doctor say that? + +WILLIAM. [_His voice trembling_.] Y--es, sir. + +PETER. [_Looks round the room--beginning to understand_.] ... What did you +mean, 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 over +instantly. God bless you, sir. I've never come to you for any worthy +charity 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--a +little valve--[_Tapping heart_]--here. [_Slaps_ PETER _on the shoulder_] +There's my 'phone, [_As a bell is heard faintly but persistently ringing +across 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 to +imagine you're worse than you are. [_Angrily_.] Don't funk! + +PETER. [_Calmly_] That wasn't my reason for detaining you, Andrew. [_With +a 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't +forget to come back and apologize for my want of faith. [_The_ DOCTOR +_goes home_. FREDERIK _stands looking at his_ UNCLE. _There is a long +pause._ PETER _throws up both hands_] Rubbish! Doctors are very often +wrong. 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 old +leaf ready to curl up, eh, Fritz? [_He drains the glass. Goes up to the +peg, 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 and +me. + +FREDERIK. Are you going ... after all? ... And with that child? + +PETER. Why not? + +FREDERIK. [_Suddenly showing feeling_.] That little tattler? A child that +listens to everything and just told you ... He shouldn't be allowed in +this part of the house. He should be sent away. + +PETER. [_Astonished_.] Why do you dislike him, Frederik? He's a fine +little fellow. You surprise me, my boy ... [CATHERINE _enters and goes to +the piano, running her hands softly over the keys--playing no melody in +particular._ PETER _sits in his big chair at the table and picks up his +pipe._ FREDERIK, _with an inscrutable face, now strikes a match and holds +it to his uncle's pipe_. PETER _thoughtfully takes one or two puffs; then +speaking so as not to be heard by_ CATHERINE.] Frederik, I want to think +that after I'm gone, everything will be the same here ... just as it is +now. + +FREDERIK. Yes, sir. [_Sitting near_ PETER. + +PETER. Just as it is ... [FREDERIK _nods assent_. PETER _smokes. The room +is very cheerful. The bright midday sunshine creeps through the windows,-- +almost causing a haze in the room--and resting on the pots and vases and +bright 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_.] And +my 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 this +again. 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 the +garden bell rings outside_. + +FREDERIK. Noon. + +PETER. [_Opening the Book at the history of the family--points to the +closely 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 rose +in her belt_.] Will you?... + +CATHERINE. I ... I don't know.... + +PETER. [_Taking the rose and her hand in his own_] I know for you, my +dear. 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 hand +in_ FREDERIK'S, _taking the rose, and tapping their clasped hands with the +flower 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 a +month, 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. [_He +kisses_ CATHERINE. _Then, releasing her, he nods to_ FREDERIK _to follow +his 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 at +him, startled._ FREDERIK, _struck, looking intently at_ PETER _who sits +motionless._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter ... Uncle! What is it? What's the matter? [_Runs to +the door--calling across the street._] Doctor! There he is--just going +out. [_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._] Uncle +Peter! Answer me! ... It's Katie! + +_The_ DOCTOR _enters hurriedly._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. Is it ... Peter? [_He goes quickly to_ PETER _and listens +to 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 be +dead ... I've got his ticket to the circus. + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE. _The second act takes place ten days later, towards the close +of a rainy afternoon. A fire is burning in the grate and a basket +of hickory wood stands beside the hearth._ PETER'S _hat is no longer on +the peg. His pipes and jar of tobacco are missing. A number of wedding +presents are set on a table, some unopened. The interior of the room, with +its snapping fire, forms a pleasant contrast to the gloomy exterior. The +day is fading into dusk._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _is at the piano, playing the +wedding 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 a +very _quiet_ wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You're not to +speak as you enter the room and take your places near the piano. Miss +Staats will come down from her room,--at least I suppose she will--and +will 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 takes +her place at the foot of the stairs and the children repeat the song until +she has marched across the room and stationed herself in some appropriate +corner. As_ FREDERIK _appears from the hall, where he leaves his raincoat +and umbrella,_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _motions the children to silence._] That +will do, dears, thank you. Hurry home between showers. [_The children go +as she explains to_ FREDERIK.] My Sunday-school scholars.... I thought +your dear uncle would like a song at the wedding. I know how bright and +cheery 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 little +fellow. William is very much better. + +FREDERIK. [_Taking a telegram from his pocket-book._] Well, we shall soon +be off to Europe. I've just had a telegram to say a cabin has been +reserved for me on the _Imperator_. To-morrow, thank God, we shall take +the afternoon train to New York. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I must confess that I'm very glad. Of course, I'm happy +to stay and chaperone Catherine; but poor Mr. Batholommey has been alone +at the parsonage for ten days ... ever since your dear uncle ... [_Pauses, +unwinding yarn, then unburdening her mind._] I didn't think at first that +Catherine 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 immediate +marriage; but of course it was your uncle's last request, and that +influenced 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 he +left us. [_Remembering._] Some more letters marked personal came for him +while you were out. I put them in the drawer--[_Points to desk._] with +the rest. It seems odd to think the postman brings your uncle's letters +regularly, 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 things +to-night, Marta. [_She notices the lamp._] The night lamp for William? +[_Looks up towards the door of his room._] Go in very quietly. He's +asleep, 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 your +uncle had left a personal memorandum concerning us. We're anxious to hear +it read. [FREDERIK, _paying no attention to her words, is glancing at the +wedding 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 very +glad you consented to come back. My uncle never went into his office again +after you left. There is some private correspondence concerning matters of +which I know nothing; it lies on your old desk.... I'm anxious to settle +everything to-night. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room._ + +JAMES. Very well. I have no doubt but that I can get through with it by +midnight. + +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. I +have no ill-feeling against you, Hartman. + +JAMES. I'm not refusing to stay because of any ill-feeling. I'm going +because 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 dear +old uncle's. + +JAMES. I hope so. I haven't forgotten that you wanted him to sell out to +Hicks of Rochester on the very day he died. [_Exit into the office._ + +CATHERINE _comes from_ WILLIAM'S _room, simply dressed in white--no touch +of 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 as +he.... [_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 I +could stay quietly here in--[_Tears in her voice as she looks round the +room._]--in my dear home. + +FREDERIK. Why do you want to stay in this old cottage--with its candles +and lamps and shadows? It's very gloomy, very depressing. + +CATHERINE. I don't want to leave this house.... I don't want any home but +this. [_Panic-stricken._] Don't take me away Frederik. I know you've never +really liked it at Grimm's Manor. Are you sure you'll want to come back to +live here? + +FREDERIK. [_As though speaking to a child._] Of course. I'll do anything +you 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 I +owed everything to him.... If he had lived ... if I could see _his_ +happiness at our marriage--it would make _me_ happy; [_Pathetically._] but +he's gone ... and ... I'm afraid we're making a mistake. I don't feel +towards you as I ought, Frederik. I've told you again and again; but I +want to tell you once more: I'm willing to marry you ... but I don't love +you--I never shall. + +FREDERIK. How do you know? + +CATHERINE. I know ... I know.... It seems so disloyal to speak like this +after 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 your +promise? + +CATHERINE. That's it. That's what makes me try to live up to it. [_Wiping +her eyes._] But you know how I feel.... You understand.... + +FREDERIK. Perfectly; you don't quite know your own mind.... Very few young +girls 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 down +the 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 he +on 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 you +were when you came back from college and found him living here. You never +mention his mother's name, yet you played together as children. When Uncle +tried to find Annamarie and bring her back, you were the only one opposed +to it. + +FREDERIK. William is an uncomfortable child to have in the house. He has a +way of staring at people as though he had a perpetual question on his +lips. It's most annoying. + +CATHERINE. What question? + +FREDERIK. As for his mother--I've never seen her since she left this house +and I don't care to hear her name on your lips. Her reputation is--[_The +rain starts pattering on the shingled roof._] Tc! More rain ... the third +day 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, his +son James is here for a few hours--to straighten matters out. I must see +how he's getting on. [_Taking her hand, drawing her towards the table with +a change of manner._] Have you seen all the wedding presents, Kitty? I'll +be back in a few minutes. [_Pats her cheek and exits._ + +CATHERINE _stands over her wedding presents just as he left her--not +looking at them--her eyes filled with tears. The door is suddenly opened +and the_ DOCTOR _enters, a tweed shawl over his shoulders, wearing a tweed +cap. He has a book under his arm._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE _tries to hide her tears, but he +sees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa._] What's +the matter? + +CATHERINE. Nothing.... I was only thinking.... I was hoping that those we +love ... and lose ... _can't_ see us here. I'm beginning to believe +there's not much happiness in _this_ world. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talking +like that with life before you! Read this book, child; [_Gesturing towards +the book on the sofa._] it proves that the dead do see us; they do come +back. [_Walks to the foot of the stairs--turns._] Catherine, I understand +that you've not a penny to your name--unless you marry Frederik; that he +has inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let that +influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look as though they +did--my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [_Goes half-way up +the stairs--then pauses._] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a few +silver spoons--[_Pointing to the wedding presents_ stand in the way of +your future. [_Exit into_ WILLIAM'S _room. The rain increases. The sky +grows blacker--the room darker._ CATHERINE _gives a cry and stretches out +her arms, not looking up._ + +CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you ask +it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [_She stands rigid--her +arms outstretched._ MARTA, _who has silently entered from the dining-room +with fresh candles, goes to_ CATHERINE. CATHERINE _suddenly buries her +face on_ MARTA'S _broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes +her 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's +loss 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 the +door._ CATHERINE _starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily +goes into the next room, taking the_ DOCTOR'S _book with her._ MARTA _has +hurried towards the front door, when the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _and_ +COLONEL LAWTON _appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to +escape the storm._ MARTA, _greeting them, passes of to tell_ FREDERIK _of +their 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 negligee +shirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and +peering at people before answering them. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _sets +his umbrella in the hall and the_ COLONEL _hangs his broad-brimmed hat on +the 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 for +baptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder._ +FREDERIK _enters._] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time you +mentioned. + +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 a +paper-weight._] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I +only came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. A +flash of lightning illuminates the room._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but +he 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 a +decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap._ MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands +over 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 going +to take it. It's a bad night. [_Drinks._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazes +up, making the room much lighter._] Go ahead, Frederik. [_Sits._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seats +himself before the snapping hickory fire._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friends +and his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was the +very 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 knew +he'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think that +he'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was so +thoughtful! His purse was always open. + +FREDERIK. [_Eyes_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _for a second, then continues._] For +Mr. Batholommey--[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _nods solemnly._] and the Colonel. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking out a cigar._] He knew that I did the best I +could 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 to +have 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 my +profound respects." [_Continues._] To Colonel Lawton-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is _that_ what he left to _Henry_? Is +that 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 my +most cherished possession." [COLONEL LAWTON _has a look on his face as +though 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 upon +to leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only last +month, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give you +something he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the +fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell,--it's the sentiment of the thing +that 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._] Is +that 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 take +the old fob. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly._] Thank you. I already _have_ a +prayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to the +others--trying to control his feelings._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation and +disappointment._] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in your +uncle. + +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 church +to 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. The +congregation sicked _you_ after him. Now that he's gone and you'll get +nothing more, they'll call you slow--slow and pokey. You'll see! You'll +see 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 my +words--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, will +take _your_ place. It's not what you _preach_ now that counts; it's what +you 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 no +denying that. There was a time when people had to go to church--they +weren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The church +needs 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 said +all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm--well--I shouldn't be +fit 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, pull +yourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!--I've +listened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up my +business for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not a +button! A bible. Still _I'm_ not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, +it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON _stirs the fire--a log falls out and the +flame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the night +approaches._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Turning on_ COLONEL LAWTON.] Oh, you've feathered your +nest, Colonel! You're a rich man. + +COLONEL LAWTON. [_Enraged, raising his voice._] What? I never came here +that _you_ weren't begging. + +FREDERIK. [_Virtuously--laying down the paper._] Well, I'm disgusted! When +I think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled out +money 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 the +money. + +FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the +whole town knew it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the +hour. + +FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why +not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had +the 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 you +this: 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 said +too much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything is +quiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock._ + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Solemnly--breaking the pause._] Young man, it +might have been better had Mr. Grimm given his _all_ to charity--for he +has 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's +a light? We've been sitting in the dark like owls. Come in. [_A pause. He +strikes a match and holds it above his head. The light shows the open +door. 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 wind +puts out the match in_ FREDERIK'S _hand. The room is once more in +semi-darkness._] There ... it closed again ... [FREDERIK _strikes another +match 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 the +group of characters. She turns up the wick and _PETER GRIMM _is seen +standing in the room--half in shadow. He is as he was in life. The clothes +he wears appear to be those he wore about his house in the first act. He +carries his hat in his hand. He has the same kind smile, the same +deferential manner, but his face is more spiritual and years younger. The +lamp, which _CATHERINE_ has placed on the table, brightens the room._ + +PETER. [_Whose eyes never leave_ CATHERINE.] Yes ... I called you.... I've +come back. + +FREDERIK. [_To_ CATHERINE.] No. + +PETER. Don't be frightened, Katie. It's the most natural thing in the +world. 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 was +almost sure I heard him speak ... but, of course, as soon as I came in--I +remembered.... But some one must have called me. + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _stands looking at them, perplexed; not being able to comprehend as +yet 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._] For +heaven'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 at +the door._ + +CATHERINE. [_Pausing._] Perhaps it was the book I was reading that made me +think 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'll +be 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 his +mistake _now_. + +PETER. I can see several mistakes. [REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _rises and goes +towards 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 that +you can't see me. I wasn't pleased with my funeral sermon; it was very +gloomy--very. I never was so depressed in my life. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_To_ FREDERIK.] Do you know what I should like to say +to your uncle? + +PETER. I know. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I hope at least you'll care for the parish poor as +your uncle did--and keep on with _some_ of his charities. + +PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY'S _shoulder._] That's +all attended to. I arranged all that with Frederik. He must look after my +charities. + +FREDERIK. I might as well tell you now--you needn't look to me. It's Uncle +Peter's fault if your charities are cut off. + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Half-doubtingly._] It doesn't seem possible that +he made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK _remains +stolid._ 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 his +overshoes, 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 matters +over--cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin._ + +PETER. [_Slipping his hand through_ COLONEL LAWTON'S _arm. They seem to +look each other in the eye._] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, I +should have made a will ... I--suppose it _is_ a little too late, isn't +it?... It would be--er--unusual to do it now, wouldn't it? + +COLONEL LAWTON, _who has heard nothing--seen nothing--moves away as +though_ PETER _had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for his +cape 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, I +suppose. It's not worth a penny. + +COLONEL LAWTON. I'm not so sure of that. They say there's a lot of money +paid 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 take +it off your hands. + +FREDERIK. I'll find out how much it's worth. I shall have everything +appraised. [_Sets his watch by the clock._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _gives him a +look and joins her husband at the door._ + +COLONEL LAWTON. Good-night. [_Exit, closing the door._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_As_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _goes out--calling after +him._] Henry, Catherine wants you to come back for supper. [MRS. +BATHOLOMMEY _leaves the room too disgusted for words._ FREDERIK _goes into +the office._ + +PETER. [_Now alone._] We live and learn ... and oh! what I have learned +since I came back.... [_He goes to his own particular peg in the vestibule +and hangs up his hat. He glances at the wedding presents. Presently he +sees the flowers which_ CATHERINE _has placed on the desk. With a smile, +he touches the flowers._ MARTA _enters with another lamp, which she places +on a table. As_ PETER'S _eyes rest on_ MARTA, _he nods and smiles in +recognition, waiting for a response._] Well, Marta?... Don't you know +your old master?... No?... No?... [_She winds the clock and leaves the +room._] I seem to be a stranger in my own house ... yet the watch-dog knew +me and wagged his tail as I came in. [_He stands trying to comprehend it +all._] Well! Well! + +FREDERIK. [_Looking at his watch, re-enters from the office and goes to +the 'phone, which presently rings._ FREDERIK _instantly lifts the receiver +as though not wishing to attract attention. In a low voice._] Yes ... I +was waiting for you. How are you, Mr. Hicks? [_Listens._] I'm not anxious +to 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 ... of +course in that case ... I might be tempted. To-morrow? No, I can't see you +to-morrow. I'm going to be married to-morrow, and leave at once for New +York. Thank you. [_Listens._] To-night? Very well, but I don't want it +known. 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 come +to-night?... Yes, yes.... [_Listens at the 'phone._] The dear old man told +you his plans never failed, eh? God rest his soul! [_Laughing +indulgently._] Ha! Ha! Ha! + +PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha! + +FREDERIK. [_Echoing_ HICKS' _words._] What would he say if he knew? What +could he say? Everything must change. + +_A far-away rumble of thunder is heard--the lightning flickers at the +window and a flash is seen on the telephone which tinkles and responds as +though from the electric shock. Exclaiming "Ugh,"_ FREDERIK _drops the +receiver--which hangs down._ + +PETER. [_The storm passes as he speaks into the receiver without touching +the telephone._] Good-evening, my friend. We shall soon meet--face to +face. You won't be able to carry this matter through.... [_Looking into +space as though he could see the future._] You're not well and you're +going out to supper to-night; ... you will eat something that will cause +you to pass over.... I shall see you to-morrow.... A happy crossing! + +FREDERIK. [_Picks up the receiver._] Hello?... You don't feel well, you +say? [_Then echoing the purport of_ HICKS' _answer._] I see.... Your +lawyer can attend to everything to-night without you. Very well. It's +entirely a question of money, Mr. Hicks. Send your lawyer to the Grimm +Manor Hotel. I'll arrange at once for a room. Good-bye. [_Hangs up the +receiver._] That's off my mind. [_He lights a fresh cigarette--his face +expressing the satisfaction he feels in the prospect of a perfectly idle +future._ PETER _looks at him as though to say: "And that's the boy whom I +loved 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 he +could feel the presence of some one waiting there._] Yes ... I am still +in the house. Come in ... come in ... [_He repeats the signal of the first +act._] Ou--oo. [_The door opens slowly--and_ CATHERINE _enters as though +at_ PETER'S _call. She looks about her, not understanding. He holds out +his arms to her._ CATHERINE _walks slowly towards him. He takes her in his +arms, but she does not respond. She does not know that she is being +held._] There! There!... Don't worry.... It's all right.... We'll arrange +things very differently. I've come back to change all my plans. [_She +moves 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 love +for you outlive _me_? Isn't it here in the home?... Don't cry. [_She moves +about the room in thought. As_ PETER _watches her--she pauses near his +desk._ + +CATHERINE. [_Suddenly._] Crying doesn't help matters. + +PETER. She hears me. She doesn't know it, but she hears me. She's cheering +up. [_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 the +realization of her loss_, CATHERINE _sighs._ + +PETER. [_Correcting himself._] I--I mean--since I learned that there was a +happier place than the world I left.... I'm a trifle confused. I've not +had time to adjust myself to these new conditions. [CATHERINE _smiles +sadly--goes up to the window, and, leaning against the pane, looks out +into the night._ PETER _continues comfortingly._] The dead have never +really died, you know. We couldn't die if we tried. We're all about +you.... Look at the gardens: they've died, haven't they? But there they +are all the better for it. Death is the greatest thing in the world. It's +really a--Ha!--delightful experience. What is it, after all? A nap from +which we waken rested, refreshened ... a sleep from which we spring up +like 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 than +you--much younger. [_A conflict is going on in_ CATHERINE'S _mind. She +walks 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 what +you're thinking.... Katie, I want you to break that very foolish promise I +asked you to make. You're almost tempted to. Break it! Break it at once; +then--[_Glancing smilingly towards the door through which he came--as +though he wished to leave--like a child longing to go back to play._] then +I 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 her +mind._] You have a feeling ... an impression of what I'm saying; but the +words ... the words are not clear.... Mm ... let me see.... If you can't +understand 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 very +often ... and then, there's your mother. [_Suddenly remembering._] Oh, +yes, I had almost forgotten. I have a message for you, Katie.... [_He +seats himself in a chair which is almost in front of her._] I've met your +mother. [_She sits in a reverie._ PETER _continues with the air of a +returned traveller relating his experiences._] She heard that I had +crossed 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 interesting +experience. She knew me at once. "You were Peter Grimm," she said, "before +you knew better"--that's what _they_ call leaving _this_ world--"_to know +better_." 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 that +you had a happy home. I spoke of your future--of my plans for you and +Frederik. "Peter Grimm," she said, "you've over-looked the most important +thing in the world--love. You haven't given her _her right_ to the choice +of her lover--_her right_!" Then it came over me that I'd made a terrible +mistake ... and at that minute, you called to me. [_Impressively._] In the +darkness surrounding all I had left behind, there came a light ... a +glimmer where you stood ... a clear call in the night.... It seemed as +though I had not been away one second ... but in that second, you had +suffered.... Now I am back to show you the way.... I am here to put my +hand on your dear head and give you your mother's blessing; to say she +will be with you in spirit until she holds you in her arms--you and your +loved husband--[CATHERINE _turns in her chair and looks towards the door +of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _catches the thought._]-- +yes, James, it's you.... And the message ended in this kiss. [_Prints a +kiss 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 least +hope! Anybody can hope. + +CATHERINE _rises with an entire change of manner--takes a bright red +blossom from the vase on_ PETER'S _desk--then deliberately walks to the +door of the room in which_ JAMES _is working._ PETER _follows her action +hopefully. She does not tap on the door, however, but turns and sits at +the piano--in thought--not facing the piano. She puts_ PETER'S _flowers +against her face. Then, laying the flowers on the piano, sings softly +three or four bars of the song she sang in the first act--and stops +abruptly._ + +CATHERINE. [_To herself._] That I should sit here singing--at a time like +this! + +PETER. Sing! Sing! Why not? Lift up your voice like a bird! Your old uncle +doesn'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 could +only 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--I +can tell you _that_. They'd do dreadful things to get away from this +existence--make for the nearest pond or--[_Pausing abruptly._] Ah, here +comes someone who'll know all about it! [_The_ DOCTOR _comes from_ +WILLIAM'S _room._ PETER _greets him in a cordial but casual way, as though +he 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 quite +understand him. + +PETER. I apologize. I said that if I could come back, I would; and here I +am--apologizing. Andrew! Andrew! [_Trying to attract_ DR. MACPHERSON'S +_attention._] I have a message, but I can't get it across. This is your +chance. 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 a +prescription with his fountain pen._] I'll leave this prescription at the +druggist's-- + +PETER. I'm quite shut out.... They've closed the door and turned the key +on me. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Suddenly noticing that_ CATHERINE _seems more +cheerful._] What's happened? I left you in tears and here you are--all +smiles. + +CATHERINE. Yes, I--I am happier--for some reason.... For the last few +minutes 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 very +short 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 both +occupy the same seats as in the first act._ + +PETER. The trouble is with other people, not with us. You want us to give +all sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while--very +poorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter--bless his heart! [_His elbow on the table +as though he had been thinking over the matter._ CATHERINE _sits quietly +listening._] If he kept that compact with me, and came back,--do you know +what I'd ask him first? If our work goes on. + +PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerably +since I crossed over. + +CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. The question _every man wants the answer to_: what's to +become of me--_me_--_my work_? Am I going to be a bone setter in the next +life and he a tulip man?... I wonder. + +PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody--Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit told +me that sometimes our work _does_ go on; but he was an awful liar--you +knew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius is +simply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows his +business. Now then: [_Confidentially preparing to open an argument-- +sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act._] it stands to +reason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with a +fellow who knew his business before he was born? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Unconsciously grasping the thought._] I believe it is +possible to have more than one chance at our work. + +PETER. There ... you caught that.... Why can't you take my message to +Catherine? + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising to get his shawl--gruffly._] Thought over what I +told 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 Peter +wished. 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 without +seeming to pull it._] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can always +change 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 coat +pocket._] 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 _and +facing_ CATHERINE.] Tc! Tc! Tc! + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night. + +CATHERINE. Good-night. [CATHERINE _goes quietly to the fireplace, kneeling +down, mends the fire, and remains there sitting on an ottoman._ + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] If I could only make some sign--to +start you thinking; but I can't depend upon _you_, I see that.... [_Then +changing--as though he had an idea._] Ah, yes! There _is_ another way. Now +to work. [_With renewed activity, he taps in the direction of the office +door, although he himself stands three feet away from it. The door opens +promptly and_ JAMES _appears on the threshold--pen in hand--as though +something had made him rise suddenly from his desk._ CATHERINE, _still +seated, does not see_ JAMES, _who stands looking at her--remembering that +she is to be married on the following day._ PETER _tempts_ JAMES.] Yes, +she _is_ pretty, James ... young and lovely.... Look!... There are kisses +tangled in her hair where it curls ... hundreds of them.... Are you going +to let her go? Her lips are red with the red of youth. Every smile is an +invocation to life. Who could resist her smiles? Can you, James? No, you +will not let her go. And her hands, James.... Look! Hands made to clasp +and cling to yours. Imagine her little feet trudging happily about _your_ +home.... Look at her shoulders ... shaped for a resting-place for a little +head.... You were right, James, we should ask nothing of our girls but to +marry the men they love and be happy wives and happy mothers of happy +children. You feel what I am saying.... You couldn't live without her, +could you? No? Very well, then--[_Changing abruptly._] Now, it's your +turn. + +JAMES _pauses a moment. There is silence. Then he comes forward a step +and_ 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't +know 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 people +together, 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 luck +together. We're going to start with a small fruit farm. It will give me a +chance 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 just +before he went, he gave me his mother's wedding ring and asked me to marry +Frederik. I shall never forget how happy he was when I promised. That was +all he wanted. His last smile was for me ... and there he sat--still +smiling after he was gone ... the smile of a man leaving the world +perfectly 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 hereafter +if I didn't do everything he wished; I couldn't say my prayers at night; I +couldn't speak his name in them.... He trusted me; depended upon me; did +everything for me; so I must do this for him.... I wanted you to know +this, 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 like +you--in _that_ way.... God! He's rotten all the way through. He's even +worse 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't +know what!... [PETER _smiles._] I felt that I _must_ talk to you. You +looked so young, so helpless, such a child. You've never had to think for +yourself--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 where +you don't love. Why should you carry out your uncle's plans? You're going +to be wretched for life to please a dead man who doesn't know it; or, if +he 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 you +were of your uncle or how much he did for you--it wasn't right to ask this +of 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 I +think 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 I +had any hopes--I hadn't.... I haven't now.... [_Struck._] But in spite of +what I'm saying ... I don't know what makes me think that I ... I could +take 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 violently +propelled. In reality, she thinks that she is yielding to an impulse. As +she reaches him, she exclaims_ "No," _and turns back, but_ JAMES, _with +outstretched 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 stands +free of_ JAMES--_then turns and walks to the stairs._] Good-bye, Jim. + +JAMES. Do you mean it? Are you really going to sacrifice yourself because +of--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 in +his face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive._ + +FREDERIK. [_Throwing his hat and coat on a chair._] I have some work to +do--more of my uncle's unopened mail; then I'll join you, Hartman. We +must--er--make haste. + +JAMES _looks at_ CATHERINE, _then at_ FREDERIK. CATHERINE _gives him an +imploring 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 ceremony +to-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--opens +two letters--tears them up after barely glancing at them--then sees_ +CATHERINE _still standing at the foot of the stairs--her back to him. He +lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses +her._ + +CATHERINE. [_With a revulsion of feeling._] No! No! No! [_She covers her +face with her hands--trying to control herself._] Please!... Not now.... + +FREDERIK. Why not _now_? [_Suspiciously._] Has Hartman been talking to +you? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE _starts slowly up the +stairs._] Wait a moment, please.... [_As she retreats a step up the +stairs, he follows her._] Do you really imagine you--you care for that +fellow? + +CATHERINE. Don't--please. + +FREDERIK. I'm sorry to insist. Of course, I knew there was a sort of +school-girl attachment on your part; ... that you'd known each other since +childhood. I don't take it at all seriously. In three months, you'll +forget him. I must insist, however, that you do _not_ speak to him again +to-night. After to-morrow--after we are married--I'm quite sure that you +will not forget you are my wife, Catherine--my wife. + +CATHERINE. I sha'n't forget. [_She escapes into her room._ FREDERIK _goes +to 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 I +know you! [FREDERIK _is reading a letter._] You sit there opening a dead +man'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. Even +now it is overtaking you. Your hour has struck. [FREDERIK _takes up +another letter and begins to read it; then, as though disturbed by a +passing thought, he puts it down. As though perplexed by the condition of +his own mind, he ponders, his eyes resting unconsciously on_ PETER.] Your +hour has struck. + +FREDERIK. [_To himself._] What in the world is the matter with me +to-night? + +PETER. Read! + +FREDERIK. [_Has opened a long, narrow, blue envelope containing a letter +on 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 though +reading the letter in the air._] "Dear Mr. Grimm: I have not written +because 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 reads +aloud._] "Don't be too hard upon me.... I have gone hungry trying to save +a few pennies for him, but I never could; and now I see that I cannot hope +to have him back. William is far better off with you. I--" [_Hesitates._ + +PETER. [_Going back of the desk, standing behind_ FREDERIK'S _chair._] Go +on.... + +FREDERIK. "I wish that I might see him once again. Perhaps I could come +and 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 his +shoulder--then glances about._] I could have sworn somebody was looking +over my shoulder ... or had come in at the door ... or ... [_But seeing no +one--he continues._] "I met someone from home; ... if there is any truth +in the rumour of Catherine's marriage--it mustn't be, Mr. Grimm--it +mustn't be ... not to Frederik. For Frederik is my little boy's--" +[FREDERIK _gives a furtive glance upstairs at the door of the child's +room. Picks up the small picture which was in the envelope._] Her picture +... [_Turns it over--looks at the back--reads._] "For my boy, from +Annamarie." [FREDERIK, _conscious-stricken for the time being, bows his +head._ + +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 his +mother's pardon. Turn over a fresh page, that I may leave this house in +peace.... + +FREDERIK. [_Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leading +into the hall._] Who is at the door? Curious ... I thought I heard someone +at ... + +PETER. I am at the door--I, Peter Grimm! Annamarie is at the door--the +little girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchen +breaking her heart for some word. William is at the door--your own flesh +and 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 door +of your conscience, Frederik.... Don't keep us waiting, my boy. It's very +hard to kill the love I had for you. I long to love you again--to take you +back 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 back +her 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 of +her joy, her gratitude, her affection. It's worth living for, lad. Speak! +Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK _takes several steps--then turns +back to the desk. He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself,_ "Damn +the woman," _and sinks into his chair._] Frederik Grimm, stand up before +me! [FREDERIK _starts to rise, but changes his mind._] Stand up! [FREDERIK +_rises--not knowing why he has risen._ PETER _points an accusing finger +at_ FREDERIK.] Liar to the dead! Cheat, thief, hypocrite! You sha'n't have +my little girl. You only want her for a week, a day, an hour. I refuse. I +have come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest.... I +have come back.... You cannot drive me from your thoughts--I am there.... +[_Tapping his forehead, without touching it._] I am looking over your +shoulder ... in at the window ... under the door.... You are breathing me +in the air.... I am looking at your heart. [_He brings his clenched fist +down on the desk in answer to_ FREDERIK'S _gesture; but, despite the +seeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound._] Hear me! You shall hear +me! Hear me! [_Calling loudly._] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobody +hear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journey +been 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? Is +there no second chance in this world? + +FREDERIK. [_With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his +thoughts._] Psh! + +MARTA _enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small +cakes._ PETER, _who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog +craving 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, _deep +in thought, does not notice her._ PETER _points to the desk as though to +say, "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 about +to set on the desk._ + +PETER. [_Speaking in a hushed voice._] Marta, see what you have in your +hand ... that letter ... there ... read it.... Run to Catherine with it. +Read it from the house-tops.... The letter ... Look! There you have the +story 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 never +speak.... The letter for Catherine. + +MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to +look 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 his +black-bordered handkerchief._] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenly +here 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's +customs.... 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 ... that +Annamarie ... that there should be some message.... Every day I expect to +hear ... + +FREDERIK. No. + +PETER _gestures to_ MARTA--_pointing to the picture and letter, now +covered 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 the +letter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burning +pieces on a tray. As the flame dies out,_ FREDERIK _brushes the blackened +paper into the waste-basket._] There's an end to _that_! + +PETER _crouches near the basket--hovering over it, his hinds clasped +helplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to a +bedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not with +the blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying the +impression 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 sleeping +suit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before_ FREDERIK _sees +him._ 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 the +proper 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's +passing. [_He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breeze +sweeps through the room--bellies out the curtains and causes the lustres +to jingle on the mantel. Surprised._] No. It's almost dark. There's no +procession ... no shining horses.... [_Turning sadly away from the +window._] 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, in +retreating from him, unconsciously backs towards_ PETER.] Are you feeling +better? + +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; nobody +knows. + +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 explain +himself, 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 of +water, please? + +FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good for +little boys with fever. + +WILLIAM. [_Going towards the stairs._] Wish I could find a cold brook and +lie in it. [_Goes slowly up the stairs._ FREDERIK _would destroy the +pieces of the picture; but_ PETER _faces him as though forbidding him to +touch it, and, for the first time,_ FREDERIK _imagines he sees the +apparition of his uncle._ + +FREDERIK. [_In a very low voice--almost inaudibly._] My God! I thought I +saw ... [_Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of_ PETER _is +still before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweat +from his forehead._ WILLIAM, _hearing the door close, comes down stairs +and, 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 his +influence._ + +WILLIAM. Wish it _had_ been the circus music. + +PETER. You shall hear it all again. [_Gestures towards the plate of cakes +on the tray._] Come, William, here's something very nice. + +WILLIAM. [_Seeing the cakes._] Um! Cakes! [_He steals to the tray, looking +over his shoulder in fear of being caught._ + +PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to the +cakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me ... a very +important message?... + +_The circus music is heard._ WILLIAM _sits at the tray and_ PETER _seats +himself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours._ WILLIAM, +_being unconsciously coaxed by_ PETER, _is prevailed upon to choose the +biggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards_ PETER. + +WILLIAM. [_To himself._] Ha!... Think I am dreaming. [_Rubbing his little +stomach ecstatically._] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't any +cake. + +PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM _has taken another piece of cake +which he nibbles at--now holding a piece in each hand._] Pretty +substantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM _eats the +raisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl._] Don't hesitate, William. Sugar +won't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William--help +yourself. [WILLIAM _looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of_ +FREDERIK.] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he saw +me, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience--hallucination. +[WILLIAM _nibbles a lump of sugar._] Now, William, I have a message for +you. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats another +lump of sugar._] I see ... I can't expect to get any assistance from a boy +while his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM _empties the cream jug and +helps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out._] Now I'm going to +tell you something. [_Impressively._] You're a very lucky boy, William; I +congratulate you. Do you know why--of all this household--you are the only +one to help me?... This is the secret: in a little time--it won't be +long--you're going--[_As though he were imparting the most delightful +information._]--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 without +paying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb the +hill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there are +some little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin the +battle of life.... Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle.... +Like little moon moths,--they look in at the windows; they beat at the +panes; they see the lights of happy firesides--the lights of home; but +they 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 your +man's work begins,--you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! No +coarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world like +Frederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimming +of the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shall +know in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, ... tears such as +Katie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith--your +innocence,--you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!... "It is +well with the _child_." [WILLIAM _lays down the cake and, clasping his +hands, thinks._ PETER _answers his thoughts._] What? No--don't think of +it! 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 you +with sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM +_takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims_ "Hm!" _in a +satisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in his +chair._] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try to +understand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherine +that-- + +WILLIAM. [_Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap._] Take me back +with 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 my +hand ... [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 nothing +there. + +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 can +see 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 help +me 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 it +must be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circus +for nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone to +town?" + +PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Come +here, William [_He starts towards the desk._]; would you like to see +someone whom all little boys love--love more than anybody else in the +whole world? [PETER _is standing at the desk with his finger on the torn +pieces 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 in +little bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her to +everybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world did +she ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them to +thinking. + +WILLIAM. Yes. Let us show her to everybody. [_He sits and joins the pieces +under the guidance of_ PETER.] Annamarie ... Annamarie ... + +PETER. You remember many things, William ... things that happened when you +lived 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 things +tucked away in your childish brain,--things laid away in your mind like +toys upon a shelf. Come, pick them up and dust them off and bring them out +again. 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 speaking +to the picture._] I must put you together before _he_ comes back. [_He +fits the other pieces together_--PETER _trying to guide him. Presently_ +WILLIAM _hums as a child will when at play, singing the tune of "Uncle +Rat."_] "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 the +picture_. + +PETER. [_Finishing the verse_.] "A cup of tea." [_With a gesture as though +knocking 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--staring +at 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 front +of_ CATHERINE'S _door, it opens_. PETER _passes in and_ CATHERINE _comes +out_. + +CATHERINE. [_Astonished_.] Why, William! What are you doing here? + +WILLIAM. Miss Catherine! Come down! Come down! I have something to show +you. + +CATHERINE. [_Not coming down_.] No, dear--come upstairs; there's a good +boy. 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. Grimm +brought back with him. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Alarmed_.] What are you talking about, William? Old +Mr. 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. [_Comes +down 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 all +sorts 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 his +hand. It is evident that he has come over in a hurry._ + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Surprised._] I was just going for you. How fortunate +that 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 _cheek +and 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 this +room--that he was talking to him. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Interested._] Yes? Really? Well, possibly he is. Nothing +remarkable 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--looking +at_ WILLIAM.] I wonder if that boy's a sensitive. [_Hand on his chin._] I +wonder ... + +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 so +constituted 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 out +what ails William. William, what makes you think that Mr. Grimm is in this +room? + +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._] What +makes 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 to +you? + +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 show +you 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 heard +from 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 at +the truth. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. It's a new picture. She's much changed. How ever did it +find its way here? + +CATHERINE. I never saw it before. It's very strange.... We've all been +waiting 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 message +with it. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I remember the day that picture came ... the day your +uncle 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 and +rushing about. It dropped to the floor and as I picked it up I thought I +knew the writing; but I couldn't remember whose it was.... It was directed +to your uncle.... [_Looking from the desk to the waste-basket._] There's +the envelope [_Holding up a scrap of blue envelope._] and paper; ... some +one 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 to +find out. You may draw the curtains, Catherine, if you please. [CATHERINE +_draws the curtains. The_ DOCTOR _turns the lights down and closes the +door. A pause._] Peter Grimm ... + +PETER. Yes, Andrew?... + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Not hearing._] If you have come back ... if you are in +the room ... and the boy speaks truly--give me some sign ... some +indication ... + +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 there +are great difficulties--will you try and send your message by William? I +presume 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 understand +perfectly. + +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 not +shutting his eyes. As though controlled by_ PETER.] There was Annamarie +and 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 lived +with 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 that +came to see-- + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Perplexed._] It can't be possible that the child knows +what he's talking about. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Ignoring her._] What did you tell Mr. Grimm when he +asked 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 afraid +now, William? + +WILLIAM. [_Looking towards the door._] N-no--but.... Please, please don't +let 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. _All +instinctively look towards the spot to which_ WILLIAM _points, but they +see no one._ + +PETER. [_Speaking slowly to the boy._] Catherine--must--not--marry +Frederik 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 make +Annamarie cry; ... he makes me cry ... + +CATHERINE. [_With suppressed excitement--half to herself._] Why are you +afraid 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'm +putting them together just as he put that picture together.... I must know +the 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. He +is taken unawares and for a few seconds he does not move--then he +recovers._ + +WILLIAM. Please don't let him scold me. I'm afraid of him. [_Going towards +the stairs--looking at_ FREDERIK.] I was afraid of him when I lived with +Annamarie 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 little +while 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 from +Annamarie.... [_Gestures towards the desk._ FREDERIK _sees the photograph +and 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 see +her, too. Why did you tell me that you'd never seen her since she went +away? 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 to +know what his mother was to you. I want the truth. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Who has been in thought--now looking up._] We've heard +the truth. We had that message from Peter Grimm himself. + +CATHERINE. Yes, it is true. I believe Uncle Peter Grimm was in this room +to-night. + +FREDERIK. [_Not surprised--glancing towards the spot where_ PETER _stood +when 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 right +to 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'll +take it back! + +PETER. [_Gently--smilingly--relieved._] I did give it back to you, my +dear; 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 first +act is now being used by the_ DOCTOR _for_ WILLIAM'S _medicines, two +bottles, 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 has +thought of going to bed._ FREDERIK _is waiting at the hotel for the lawyer +whom_ 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, is +seated before the fire, writing the account of_ PETER GRIMM'S _return, for +the American Branch of the "London Society for Psychical Research." It is +now a fine, clear night. The clouds are almost silvery and a hint of the +moon is showing._ + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Reading what he has written._] "To be forwarded to the +'London Society for Psychical Research': Dr. Hyslop: Dear Sir: This +evening at the residence of Peter--" [_Pauses and inserts "the late" and +continues to read after inserting the words._] "--the late Peter Grimm-- +the well-known horticulturist of Grimm Manor, New York, certain phenomena +were observed which would clearly indicate the return of Peter Grimm, ten +days after his decease. While he was invisible to all, three people were +present besides myself--one of these, a child of eight, who received the +message. 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, that +whichever went first was to return and give the other some sign; and I +propose to give positive proof--" [_He hesitates--thinks--then repeats._] +"positive proof that he kept this compact and that I assisted in the +carrying out of his instructions." + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Enters--evidently highly wrought up by the events of +the evening._] Who was that? Who knocked? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Telegram. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I thought perhaps Frederik had come back. Don't you +consider William much better? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Mm ... + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear, dear! The scene that took place to-night has +completely upset me. [_The_ DOCTOR _takes up his pen and reads to +himself._] Well, Doctor: [_She pushes forward a chair and sits at the +other side of the table--facing him._] the breaking off of the engagement +is rather sudden, isn't it? We've been talking it over in the front +parlour, Mr. Batholommey and I. James has finished his work and has just +joined us. I suggest sending out a card--a neat card--saying that, owing +to the bereavement in the family, the wedding has been indefinitely +postponed. 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 very +strange to me--how is it going to look to other people; especially when we +haven't any--any rational explanation--as yet? We must get out of it in +some fashion. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Whose business is it? + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Nobody's, of course. But Catherine's position is +certainly unusual; and the strangest part of it all is--she doesn't seem +to feel her situation. She's sitting alone in the library, seemingly +placid 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 be +interested. You might at least answer my question. + +DR. MACPHERSON. What chance have I had to answer? You've done all the +talking. + +MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Rising--annoyed._] Oh, of course, all these little +matters sound trivial to you; but men like you couldn't look after the +workings of the _next_ world if other people didn't attend to _this_. Some +one has to do it. + +DR. MACPHERSON. I fully appreciate the fact, Mistress Batholommey, that +other 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 something +really 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 for +a moment to suggest that we suspend judgment until the information William +has 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 without +offering some explanation. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_At the 'phone._] Marget, I'm at Peter's. I mean--I'm at +the 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, I +shall 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's +mother for whom I am searching. [_The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _smiles +faintly behind his hand._] Then I shall send in my report, and not until +then. What I wish to ask is this: would you have any objection to the name +of 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; but +wouldn't you like to bolster up your report with "the wife of a clergyman +who 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 a +minister's coat. _I_ think myself that you have _probably_ stumbled on the +truth 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 old +and he was with her until five--and five's the age of memory. Every +incident of his mother's life has lingered in his little mind. Supposing +you do find her and learn that it's all true: what do you prove? Simply +that _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 a +clergyman,--I'm just echoing what _everybody else_ thinks--don't you +believe 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--is +it healthy? + +DR. MACPHERSON. Well, Batholommey, religion has frequently led to the +stake, and I never heard of the Spanish Inquisition being called _healthy_ +for anybody taking part in it. Still, religion flourishes. But your +old-fashioned, unscientific, gilt, ginger-bread Heaven blew up ten years +ago--went out. My Heaven's just coming in. It's new. Dr. Funk and a lot of +the 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 that +no man can do. I made up my mind at twenty-one, and my Heaven is just +where 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 be +glad to see me, dear, won't you? + +REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. My church mouse! [_He pats her cheek, kisses her +good-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 are +but air. We didn't see Peter Grimm and you know and I know and everybody +knows that _seeing_ is believing. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Looking up._] Damn everybody! It's everybody's ignorance +that 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 the +carrying 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 have +come to their senses. Catherine has, for one. I'm very glad to see you +back, 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. [_He +picks up the lamp from the_ DOCTOR'S _table and holds it so that he can +look searchingly in the direction of the desk to see if_ PETER'S +_apparition is still there. His eye is suddenly riveted on the telegram +resting 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 the +hotel.... [_Tries to go to the desk but cannot muster up courage._] I had +an appointment to meet a man who wanted to buy the gardens. I may as well +tell you, I'm thinking of selling out root and branch. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Amazed._] Selling out? Peter Grimm's gardens? So this is +the end of Peter's great work? + +FREDERIK. You'll think it strange, Doctor; but I--I simply can't make up +my mind to go near that old desk of my uncle's.... I have a perfect terror +of 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-drawn +breath._] Billy Hicks--the man I was to sell to--is dead.... [_Tosses the +telegram 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 ... whispered +it to me.... Doctor, as sure as you live--somebody else is doing my +thinking 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 ... [_Pointing +towards the desk._] there. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Eh?... + +FREDERIK. And just before I--I saw him--I--I had the ... the strangest +impulse to go to the foot of the stairs and call Kitty--give her the +house--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 of +the 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 of +notes._] Did you ever have this impulse before--to give up Catherine--to +let her have the cottage? + +FREDERIK. Not much, I hadn't. Certainly not. I told you someone else was +thinking for _me_. I don't want to give her up. It's folly! I've always +been fond of her. But if she has turned against me, I'm not going to sit +here and cry about it. I shall be up and off. [_Rising._] But I'll tell +you one thing: from this time, I propose to think for myself. I've taken a +room at the hotel and a few things for the night. I've done with this +house. I'd like to sell it along with the gardens, and let a stranger raze +it to the ground; but--[_Thinks as he looks towards the desk._] when I +walk out of here to-night--it's hers--she can have it. ... I wouldn't +sleep here.... I give her the home because ... + +DR. MACPHERSON. Because you don't believe anything; but you want to be on +the safe side in case he--[_Gesturing to desk._] was there. + +FREDERIK. [_Puzzled--awed--his voice almost dropping to a whisper._] How +do you account for it, Doctor? + +DR. MACPHERSON. It might have been an hallucination or perhaps you did see +him, though it could have been inflammation of conscience, Frederik: when +did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Angrily._] Haven't I told you already that I refuse to answer +any questions as to my-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. I think it only fair to tell you that it won't make a +particle of difference whether you answer me or not. I have someone on the +track now--working from an old address; I've called in the detectives and +I'll find her, you may be sure of that. As long as I'm going to know it, I +may as well hear your side of it, too. When did you last see Annamarie? + +FREDERIK. [_Sits--answers dully, mechanically, after a pause._] About +three 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 man +realizes 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 you +going to do for William? + +FREDERIK. Nothing. I'm a rich man now--and if I recognize him--he'll be at +me till the day he dies. His mother's gone to the dogs and under her +influence, the boy-- + +DR. MACPHERSON. Be silent, you damned young scoundrel. Oh! What an act of +charity if the good Lord took William, and I say it with all my heart. Out +of all you have--not a crumb for-- + +FREDERIK. I want you to know I've sweat for that money, and I'm going to +keep it! + +DR. MACPHERSON. _You've_ sweat for-- + +FREDERIK. [_Showing feeling._]--Yes! How do you think I got the money? I +went to jail for it--jail, jail. Every day I've been in this house has +been spent in prison. I've been doing time. Do you think it didn't get on +my nerves? I've gone to bed at nine o'clock and thought of what I was +missing in New York. I've got up at cock-crow to be in time for grace at +the breakfast table. I took charge of a class in Sabbath-school, and I +handed out the infernal cornucopias at the church Christmas tree, while he +played Santa Claus. What more can a fellow do to earn his money? Don't you +call that sweating? No, sir; I've danced like a damned hand-organ monkey +for the pennies he left me, and I had to grin and touch my hat and make +believe I liked it. Now I'm going to spend every cent for my own personal +pleasure. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Will rich men never learn wisdom! + +FREDERIK. [_Rising_.] No, they won't! But in every fourth generation there +comes along a _wise_ fellow--a spender who knows how to distribute the +money others have hoarded: I'm the spender. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Shame upon you and your like! Your breed should be +exterminated. + +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 more +questions. I'm done. Good-night, Doctor. + +DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night and good-bye. [_With a look of disgust, he has +gone to the table, held a medicine bottle to the light to look at the +label 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 the +front door that she knows_ FREDERIK _has been in the room and has just +left the house_.] Burn up your wedding dress. We've made no mistake. I can +tell you _that_! [_Goes up the stairs to_ WILLIAM'S _room, taking the lamp +with him_. JAMES _has entered, and, taking_ CATHERINE'S _hand, holds it +for a moment_. + +JAMES. Good-night, Catherine. [_She turns and lays her hand on his +shoulder_. + +CATHERINE. I wonder, James, if _he_ can see us now. + +JAMES. That's the big mystery!... Who can tell? But any man who works with +flowers 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 the +morning.... Won't you ... see me to the door? + +CATHERINE. Yes ... yes.... [_They go up together,_ CATHERINE _carrying a +candle into the dark vestibule. The moment they disappear, a lamp standing +on the piano goes out as though the draught from the door or an unseen +hand had extinguished it. It is now quite dark outside, and the moon is +hidden for a moment. At the same time, a light, seemingly coming from +nowhere, reveals_ PETER GRIMM _standing in the room at the door--as though +he had been there when the young people passed out. He is smiling and +happy. The moon is not seen, but the light of it (as though it had come +out from behind a cloud) now reveals the old windmill. From outside the +door 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 his +hands in satisfaction--then listens--and after a second pause exclaims, +with an upraised finger, as though he were hearing the kiss._] Ah! Now I +can go.... [_He walks to the peg on which his hat hangs, and takes it +down. His work is done._ CATHERINE _re-enters, darting into the hall in +girlish 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 leans +against the door, candle-stick in hand--the wind has blown out the +candle._] Oh, I'm so happy! I'm so happy! + +PETER. Then good-night to you, my darling: love cannot say good-bye. [_She +goes to_ PETER'S _chair, and, sitting, thinks it all over--her hands +clasped in her lap--her face radiant with happiness._] Here in your +childhood's home I leave you. Here in the years to come, the way lies +clear before you. [_His arm upraised._] "_Lust in Rust_"--Pleasure and +Peace go with you. [CATHERINE _looks towards the door--remembering_ JAMES' +_kiss--half smiling._] [_Humorously._] Y--es; I saw you. I heard ... I +know.... Here on some sunny, blossoming day when, as a wife, you look out +upon my gardens--every flower and tree and shrub shall bloom enchanted to +your eyes.... All that happens--happens again. And if, at first, a little +knock of poverty taps at the door, and James finds the road hard and +steep--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 shall +see my plantings with new eyes, my Catherine,--when you explain each leaf +and bud to your little people--you will remember the time when _we_ walked +together through the leafy lanes and I taught you--even as you teach +them--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 stranger +who may take my name from off the gates,--what _is_ my name? Already it +grows faint to my ears. [_Lightly._] Yes, yes, yes, let others take my +work.... Why should _we_ care? All that happens, happens again. [_She +rests her elbow on the chair, half hides her face in her hand._] And never +forget this: I shall be waiting for you--I shall know all your life. I +shall adore your children and be their grandfather just as though I were +here; I shall find it hard not to laugh at them when they are bad, and I +shall 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 stockings +at Christmas, in a big, busy, teeming world of shadows just outside your +threshold, or whispering in the still noises of the night.... And oh! as +the years pass, [_Standing over her chair._] you cannot imagine what pride +I shall take in your comfortable middle life--the very _best_ age, I +think--when you two shall look out on your possessions arm in arm--and +take your well-earned comfort and ease. How I shall love to see you look +fondly at each other as you say: "Be happy, Jim--you've worked hard for +this;" or James says: "Take your comfort, little mother, let them all wait +upon _you--you_ waited upon _them_. Lean back in your carriage--you've +earned it!" And towards the end--[_Sitting on a chair by her side and +looking into her face._] after all the luxuries and vanities and +possessions cease to be so important--people return to very simple things, +dear. The evening of life comes bearing its own lamp. Then, perhaps, as a +little 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; asking +nothing more of life than the few hours to be spent with those you +love,... telling your grandchildren, at your knees, how much brighter the +flowers blossomed when _you_ were young. Ha! Ha! Ha! All that happens, +happens again.... And when, one glad day, glorified, radiant, young once +more, 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 over +her and caresses her hand._] good-night. [CATHERINE _rises and, going to +the desk, buries her face in the bunch of flowers placed there in memory +of_ 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_!" Pleasure +and Peace! Amen! [CATHERINE _passes into her room, the music dying away as +her door closes_. MARTA, _still wondering, goes to the clock and winds +it_.] Poor Marta! Every time she thinks of me, she winds my clock. We're +not quite forgotten. + +DR. MACPHERSON. [_Re-appears, carrying_ WILLIAM, _now wrapped up in an +old-fashioned Dutch patchwork quilt. The_ DOCTOR _has a lamp in his free +hand_.] 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. [_Goes +into the dining-room, leaving the door open_. + +PETER. [_Calling after the_ DOCTOR.] Good-night, Andrew. I'm afraid the +world will have to wait a little longer for the _big_ guesser. Drop in +often. 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 that +you were down here. [_Seeing_ PETER.] Oh, [_Raising himself to his knees +on the sofa_.] I see you _now_! + +PETER. Yes? [_There is an impressive pause and silence as they face each +other_. + +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 without +you. + +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--[_Lies +down happily_.] to take a nap first.... I'm sleepy. [_He pulls the +covering 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 cracking +of a whip is heard, and the blare of a clown's ten-cent tin horn. The +phantom voice of the_ CLOWN _(very faint) calls:_ + +CLOWN'S VOICE. Billy Miller's big show and monster circus is in town this +afternoon! Don't forget the date! Only one ring--no confusion. Circus day +comes but once a year, little sir. Come early and see the wild animals and +hear the lion roar-r-r! Mind, I shall expect _you!_ Wonderful troupe of +trained 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 ten +cents--one dime! + +_As these voices die away, the_ CLOWN, _whose voice indicates that he is +now 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 is +silence. Then three clear knocks sound on the door._ + +PETER. Come in.... [_The door opens. No one is there--but a faint path of +phosphorous light is seen._] Oh, friends! Troops of you! [_As though he +recognizes the unseen guests._] I've been gone so long that you came for +me, eh? I'm quite ready to go back. I'm just waiting for a happy little +fellow 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 face +beaming._ + +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, and +suddenly, 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. _The +light from the lamp on the table falls on the dead face of the child. Then +the_ DOCTOR _gently lays the boy down again on the couch, and sits +pondering 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-away +sky; 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 sing +together, 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 of +light. 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 the +curtain slowly descends. The air of the song is taken up by an unseen +orchestra and continues as the audience passes out._ + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Return of Peter Grimm, by David Belasco +Edited by Montrose J. 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