REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Tolerantly.] No, thank you. I am also opposed to er—
PETER. We're going to drink to spooks—the Doctor and I.
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [With a startled cry.] Oh! [Lifts her handkerchief to her eyes.] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea—you of all people!
PETER. [Coming down with two glasses—handing one to the DOCTOR.] You seem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened.
REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a trifle nervous to-day. We must all keep up our spirits, Mr. Grimm.
PETER. Of course. Why not? [Looking at MRS. BATHOLOMMEY—struck.]
I know why you're crying. You've been to a church wedding. [To the
DOCTOR, lifting his glass.] To astral envelopes, Andrew. [They drink.
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [With sad resignation.] You were always kind to us, dear Mr. Grimm. There never was a kinder, better, sweeter man than you were.
PETER. Than I was?
REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose, my dear!
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What will become of William? [Weeps.