"_Come seg huge moroche tegen, Mynheer Grimm_," said Marta, while Willem, walking over to Peter, held out a thin little hand in greeting, with the salutation:
"_Huge moroche, Willem_," replied Grimm kindly, pressing the boy's hand.
"I'm all ready to take the flowers over to the rectory," announced Willem, drifting into English.
"If you're tired after going to the station, Otto can take them," said Grimm.
"_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 passed 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.