FREDERIK. He's growing as old-fashioned as his hats. In my opinion, this would be the time to sell.
JAMES. [Astonished.] Sell? Sell a business that has been in his family for—why, it's his religion!
FREDERIK. It's at the height of its prosperity. It would sell like that! [Snapping his fingers.] What was the last offer the old man refused from Hicks, of Rochester, Jim?
JAMES. [Noticing the sudden friendliness—looking at FREDERIK, half-amused, half-disgusted.] Can't repeat correspondence, Mr. Grimm. [Amazed.] Good heavens! You surprise me! Would you sell your great, great grandfather? I learned to read by studying his obituary out in the peach orchard: "Johann Grimm, of Holland, an upright settler." There isn't a day your uncle doesn't tell me that you are to carry on the work.
FREDERIK. So I am, but it's not my religion. [Sarcastically..] Every man can't be blessed like you with the soul of a market gardener—a peddler of turnips.
JAMES. [Thinking—ignoring FREDERIK.] He's a great old man—your uncle. It's a big name—Grimm—Peter Grimm. The old man knows his business—he certainly knows his business. [Changing.] God! It's an awful thought that a man must die and carry all that knowledge of orchids to the grave! I wonder if it doesn't all count somewhere…. I must attend to the mail.
PETER GRIMM enters from the gardens. He is a well-preserved man of sixty, very simple and plain in his ways. He has not changed his style of dress in the past thirty years. His clothing, collar, tie, hat and shoes are all old-fashioned. He is an estimable man, scrupulously honest, gentle and sympathetic; but occasionally he shows a flash of Dutch stubbornness.
FREDERIK. I ran over from the office, Uncle Peter, to make a suggestion.
PETER. Yes?
FREDERIK. I suggest that we insert a full-page cut of your new tulip in our mid-summer floral almanac.