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"_Ja, Mynheer._ The doctor says I'm all right now."
"That's good. Tell Otto to give you a _big_ armful of flowers for the rectory. A _big_ armful, remember."
Marta's grandmotherly gaze fancied it detected a twist in the boy's neatly tied cravat. So she swooped down upon him and bore him away to the window seat, where her blurring eyes would have light enough to readjust the tie to her satisfaction. Grimm, with a quick glance to make sure they were not in earshot, tapped Hartmann on the shoulder and whispered:
"There's a nice result of the 'freedom' you said young girls ought to have. Marta's Anne Marie had nothing but freedom. She was the worst spoiled child in town. Marta let her come and go as she pleased. Come and go--Heaven knows where. And Heaven knows where the poor shamed girl is now. Every time I look at Willem," raising his voice to normal pitch as Marta and her grandson pa.s.sed into the kitchen, "I realise how right I've been in the way I've brought up Katje. H'--m! Want me to give Katje a chance for more freedom, do you? Why----"
"Mr. Grimm," interrupted Hartmann, suddenly getting to his feet and facing his employer, "I'd like to be transferred to your Florida headquarters. At once, if it is convenient to you. I want to work out in the open for a while."
"What?" exclaimed Grimm dumfounded. "Florida? At this time of the year?
And you were so glad to get back here to--Pshaw! You've just got a cranky fit on you, lad. Get rid of it. Put on your overalls and go out and potter around among those beloved vegetables of yours. Change your ideas, I say. Change the whole lot of them. They're all wrong. You don't know _what_ you want."
Hartmann's lips were parted for a retort. But he closed them, turned on his heel, and left the room. Grimm shook his head as over a problem he could not solve and did not greatly care to. Then he fell to sorting a box full of bulbs.
But in a minute or two he was interrupted by Frederik.
"I saw Hartmann crossing the yard," said the younger man, "so I stepped over for a little chat with you, if you've time to listen to me."
"I've always got time to listen to you, Fritzy," replied Grimm, still busy with his bulbs. "It'll be a relief after that pig-headed James.
Lord, how I do hate an obstinate man! You said a while ago you wanted to see me on a private matter. What was it? If it's that full-page coloured cut of the new tulip, I may as well tell you----"
"It isn't. It's about your pig-headed friend, James."
"James? What about him?"
"Just this, Oom Peter: I think he is interested in Kathrien."
"Who? James? Bah! You're dreaming. That's just like a lover. Thinks every one is trying to steal his sweetheart. Why, James is too much wrapped up in his work to care about anything else. His work and his crazy theories that he gets out of books. Interested in Kathrien? Just to show you how foolish you are to think that, he asked me not five minutes ago to transfer him to the Florida headquarters. And, even if he weren't so absorbed in the business, he'd never even presume to think of Kathrien. It's preposterous!"
"Is it?" said Frederik, quite unconvinced. "Yet I've reason to believe he has been making love to her."
There was a quiet certainty in his nephew's voice that caught Grimm's reluctant credence.
"We'll find out mighty soon," he declared. "Katje!"
"No, no!" expostulated Frederik. "It would be better not to bring her into it or give her the idea that----"
"Katje!"
"Yes, Oom Peter," answered the girl, hurrying in from the dining-room in response to the bellowed summons. "What's the matter?"
"Katje," began the old man in visible embarra.s.sment, "has--has James----?"
"What?" queried Kathrien, as Grimm paused and broke into a shamefaced laugh.
"Has--has James ever shown any special interest in you? Ever made love to you, or----?"
"Oh, Oom Peter!" expostulated Kathrien, reddening to the roots of her hair. "Whatever gave you such an idea as that?"
"Nothing at all," he answered her. "It was just a bit of silly nonsense.
A joke. I can't help teasing you. Because you blush so prettily.
But--but _has_ he?"
"Why, of course not. I've always known James. Ever since I can remember.
He's never shown any interest in me that he ought not to,--if that's what you mean. He's always been _very_ respectful; in a perfectly--a perfectly friendly way."
She was scarlet and stammering. But Grimm apparently did not notice her confusion.
"Respectful," he repeated musingly. "In a perfectly friendly way. Surely we couldn't ask for anything more than that. Thank you, little girl.
That's all I wanted to know. Run along."
Casting a puzzled look at Grimm and then at Frederik--who, since she first entered the room had been seated near the window, deeply absorbed in a book,--Kathrien returned to her work in the other part of the house.
Grimm's kind eyes had never for an instant left her troubled face, nor had they failed to note her evident relief at escaping from the room. As the door closed behind her, the kindly look faded from the old eyes, leaving them hard and cold. The firm jaw set more tightly. Yet, as he turned toward Frederik, there was no trace in his tone of anything but pleasant banter.
"There, Fritzy!" said he. "You see James was only 'respectful to her in a perfectly friendly way.' I hope you are quite satisfied?"
"I am," answered Frederik. "Quite. In fact I'm every bit as satisfied as you are, uncle."
Grimm sat very still for a moment or so, staring blindly into s.p.a.ce, his head on his breast. Then, with a sigh, he roused himself. Reaching for the telephone he called up his office.
"Send Mr. Hartmann over here," he commanded.
He set down the instrument and resumed his blank stare into nothingness.
Frederik was once more wholly engrossed in the book he was not reading.
Hartmann broke in upon the strained silence.
"You sent for me, sir?" he asked, his breezy bigness waking the still room to life.
"Yes," replied Peter Grimm. "James, it has occurred to me--to ask--it has occurred to me that--James, please tell me your reason for asking a few minutes ago to be transferred to Florida?"
James made no immediate reply. He seemed ransacking his mind for the right words. Grimm eyed him closely, asking with sudden directness:
"Was it on account of my little girl?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hartmann.
The secretary's confusion had fled. Calm, self-contained, flinching not at all from the shrewd, searching eyes that were fixed on his own, he stood awaiting the breaking of the storm.
CHAPTER IV
A WARNING AND A THEORY
But, to Hartmann's surprise, the storm did not break. Instead, Peter Grimm sat gazing at him with impa.s.sive face,--gazing long and without a word. And when at last Grimm spoke, the old man's voice was as emotionless as his face.