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, deVesmĂ©, 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 negligĂ©e 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?