o have it read."

She might as well have addressed herself to a stone. Frederik made no
sort of a response. Instead, he lounged over to the piano and examined
some of the wedding presents piled up there.

Mrs. Batholommey rose with decision and approached the piano.

"_We are anxious to have it read!_"

No answer.

With a scorching glance at Frederik, Mrs. Batholommey, her work gathered
in a fluffy white bunch in her arms, marched quickly out of the room and
slammed the door.

A moment later James, newly returned from the South, entered the room
from the office. Frederik had found it impossible to get on without him
in the matter of winding up his uncle's business and had sent an urgent
and somewhat peremptory call for his immediate return.

As, just then, he needed James, he was rather more civil to him than
usual; but, from the first, he did not fail to sound the
employer-employee note.

He came forward and shook hands cordially.

"Good-afternoon. Good-afternoon. How do you do, Hartmann? I'm very glad
you consented to come back and straighten out a few matters. Naturally,
there's some business correspondence I don't understand."

"I've already gone over some of it," answered Hartmann.

"I appreciate the fact that you came over on my _uncle's_ account."

So saying, Frederik turned away with a ceremonious bow.

Hartmann went over to the desk and took a letter from the file. Then he
said coldly:

"Oh, I see that Hicks of Rochester has written you. I hope you don't
intend to sell out your uncle before his monument is set up."

Frederik turned toward Hartmann and put down his cigarette.

"I? Sell out? My intention is to carry out every wish of my dear
uncle's."

James, at this moment catching sight of Frederik's black-bordered
handkerchief, said sceptically:

"I hope so," and vanished into the office with a handful of papers.

He wished as few words as possible with Frederik. He could not bear to
look at him--for the thought that to-morrow Kathrien was to marry the
man and go out of his own life for all time was almost more than he
could stand. He had watched her grow from a lovely little girl to a
lovelier woman--he understood her as did no one else, not even Oom
Peter, who, too, had loved her so devotedly.

And he felt that she loved him, though no word had ever been said. And
now--he must let her go--he must let this worthless fellow take her--to
a life of unhappiness; for knowing the sweet soul