"From your standpoint, as I say, it's very pretty. But it's more than a mere question of sentiment. Her children can play anywhere."
"What? You're talking rubbish! I pick out a husband here—and her children can play in China if they want to? Are you crazy? Pshaw," turning away in disgust, "I just waste words in opening my heart's dear secrets to a dolt like you."
"Perhaps," assented Hartmann, quite unruffled, as he set to work enveloping some seed catalogues that lay on the table. Grimm evidently was about to pursue the flying foe with fresh invective. But Marta came in from the kitchen, and, with her, Willem. At sight of the boy, Grimm's frown softened into a smile of welcome.
"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, Mynheer Grimm."
"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.
"Oh, I'm not a bit tired."
"And you're getting real well again?"