"Anyway," went on Hartmann, without waiting for Kathrien to reply to his question, "it doesn't matter which of us thought of it first. It's enough to know it's true. And you will marry me to-morrow?"
"Yes!" vociferated Peter Grimm.
"Y-yes," faltered the girl.
"Listen, dear," continued Hartmann, "we won't be very well off, I'm afraid. I've a little money—but not much. I know scientific gardening as not many men know it. So we won't starve. But it won't be as if you were going to marry a rich man like Frederik Grimm."
"Thank Heaven, it won't!" she breathed fervently. "And do you suppose it will matter one bit to me that we won't be rich? I wish, of course, that we didn't have to leave this dear old house, but——"
"If we had both the house and the little capital that belongs to me," answered Hartmann, "we could stay on here and make a splendid living. But what's the use of building air castles?"
"Why not?" urged the Dead Man. "They're as cheap to build as air dungeons; and a million times pleasanter to live in. But, don't fret about the house. Frederik is going to turn it over to you—I've seen to that. And you will prosper, you two, here in the home I loved."
"I believe it will come out all right!" declared the girl. "I have a feeling that it will. Intuition if you like."
"'Intuition,'" repeated the Dead Man whimsically. "Yes. Call it that, if you choose. 'Intuition' and 'telepathy' are both pretty synonyms for the words spoken to you that mortal ears are too gross to understand and whose sense sometimes finds vague resting-place in mortal brains."
"It will come out all right," she reiterated, smiling up at her lover.