Kathrien, at the hint, discreetly effaced herself. Frederik followed her example.
"Well? well?" queried Peter in mock despair, seating himself opposite his old crony and tyrant. "What new horrors of diet have you thought up for my misery? Out with it. Let me know the worst."
"It isn't your body this time, Peter," was the troubled answer. "It's something that means more. The matter's been keeping me awake all night. Tell me:—how is every one provided for in this house?"
"Provided for?" echoed Peter in bewilderment. "How do you mean? Everybody gets enough to eat and we are——"
"Why, you don't understand me. You're a wonderful man for making plans, Peter. But what have you done?"
"Done?"
"If you—if you were to die—say to-morrow, or—or any other time," went on the doctor with an effort at carelessness that sat on his rough honesty as ill as his Sunday broadcloth adorned his rugged shoulders, "if you—die—unexpectedly,—how would it be with the rest of them here?"
Grimm set down his coffee cup with slow precision. And slowly he raised his eyes to McPherson's worried gaze.
"What do you mean?" he asked with something very like awe in his tone. "If I were to die to-morrow——"
"You won't!" declared McPherson emphatically. "You won't. So don't worry. You're good for a long time yet. A score of years, perhaps. You're all right, if you take decent care of yourself. Which you never do. But we've all got to come to it, sooner or later. And it's well to make provision. For instance, what would Kathrien's position be in this house, in case you were taken out of it? Kathrien is a little 'prescription' of mine, you'll remember. And—I suppose your heart is still set on her marrying Frederik, so that what is one's will be the other's. Personally I've always thought it was rather a pity that Frederik wasn't James and James wasn't Frederik."