good-byes, the little choir hurried out into the rain.

"Where's Kathrien?" said Frederik.

"Still upstairs with Willem," answered Mrs. Batholommey, glancing up
toward the little boy's room apprehensively as she spoke, and lowering
her voice a bit.

Frederik made an inarticulate sound of annoyance, and putting his hand
into his pocket, took out two steamer tickets and examined them. His one
idea was to get away from the simple, quaint surroundings that his uncle
had kept and beautified for him in the fond, proud hope that his nephew
would love and care for the place as he had done.

To Frederik it meant nothing but a humdrum existence, full of annoying
detail. The money for which it stood had been his goal--that, and
Kathrien, his uncle's very brightest flower--a flower which he was about
to tear up by the roots and transplant to foreign soil.

Mrs. Batholommey sat down in the big chair by the fire, and took up her
crochet work with a sigh. Occasionally she looked at Frederik, and
finally she spoke.

"Of course I'm glad to stay here and chaperone Kathrien; but poor Mr.
Batholommey has been alone at the parsonage for ten days--ever since
your dear uncle--it will be ten days to-morrow since he di--oh, by the
way, some mail came for your uncle. I put it in the drawer."

Frederik did not trouble to answer. He merely nodded.

"Curious how long before people know a man's gone," soliloquised Mrs.
Batholommey.

Opening the drawer carelessly Frederik took out his uncle's mail--two
business letters and one in a plain blue envelope. He looked at them a
moment, put them down, and proceeded to light another cigarette. Then he
rose, and picking up his gloves looked toward the office.

"Did Hartmann come?" he said.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Batholommey, holding up a corner of the shawl she
was crocheting, and surveying it critically. With a coquettish glance
toward the bridegroom, she hummed a little bit of the wedding march.

Frederik paid no attention to her, but, turning, gazed out of the
window. Mrs. Batholommey, however, as the wife of a clergyman, was not
used to being ignored; moreover, she was naturally of a persevering
disposition--and, added to that, she had something on her mind and could
keep still about it no longer.

"Er----" (Mrs. Batholommey coughed expressively.) "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 t