The Return of Peter Grimm by David Belasco (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📕

face took on an extra look of smugness.

"Our reward is laid up for us," he murmured sententiously, "where we least expect it."

"Quite so----" said Frederik shortly. "And as the doctor isn't here--well, the next is you, Colonel. The others mentioned are people in his employ."

Colonel Lawton settled lower in his chair, until he might almost be said to be lying on his back. He crossed his legs luxuriously and took a cigar from his pocket, saying as he lighted it:

"He knew I did the best I could for him--the _grand old man_!" Then dropping the eulogistic tone for one of strict business:

"What'd he leave me?"

Frederik kept them waiting a moment longer. He was having the time of his life. He had purposely strung out the situation to its last thread, for the joy of witnessing the self-satisfied eagerness of the three legatees. Silent now, but acutely attentive, they sat with watchful eyes trained on Frederik and the all-important paper which he was holding so carelessly in his hand--the paper that was presently to tell them so much of moment. Then it came.

"Mrs. Batholommey, he wishes you to have his miniature--with his affectionate regard."

Frederik took a miniature from the desk drawer and offered it to Mrs. Batholommey with much ceremony. She did not take it, but sat waiting as before, merely folding her hands as she purred:

"Dear old gentleman--and--er--yes?"

Frederik seemed not to hear her, and laying the miniature on the desk, went on reading:

"To Mr. Batholommey----"

The clergyman's wife broke in quickly.

"But--er--you didn't finish _mine_!"

Frederik turned around in his chair and looked directly at her.

"You're finished," he said.

"I'm _finished_?" cried Mrs. Batholommey, in a voice trembling with indignation.

"Rose!" her husband remonstrated in severe rebuke.

"Oh, it's all very well for you to say 'Rose!' How would _you_ like it to get nothing but an old picture? Tell me that!"

Here she had recourse to her handkerchief, and her lips trembled as she wiped her eyes, sniffling sorrowfully and all unheeded by the others.

Frederik took a watch fob from the drawer before he continued his reading.

"To Mr. Batholommey: my antique watch fob--with profound respect."

The executor rolled the words under his tongue.

Mr. Batholommey rose, bowed graciously, and accepted the watch fob without looking at it. Then he sat down.

The voice of Fate went on:

"To Colonel Lawton----"

Before Frederik could get any farther, Mrs. Batholommey was again at the front:

"His _watch fob_? Is that what he left _Henry_? Is that all? His----Why! _Well!_ I can't believe it! If he had no wish to make our life easier, at least he should have left something for the church. Oh, Henry!" she cried in consternation. "Won't the congregation have a crow to pick with you!"

Frederik no longer made any effort to conceal his pleasure at the part he had to play. He smiled broadly and maliciously and he was quite willing that they should all see him smile.

It must be said of Mr. Batholommey that he took his disappointment rather well. He said nothing at all, and he tried not to show how he felt. In fact he tried not to _feel_ any resentment toward his late parishioner. It was one of the hardest moments of his life; but he knew that as a clergyman he should be able to forgive--and he tried very hard.

It would have been so comfortable to have a tidy sum to put by for his old age! He had expected it so confidently! He had flattered and praised and praised and flattered! And now, after all, he was left high and dry--with a watch fob to look to for comfort in his declining years! He would keep his feelings to himself if possible, however. He did not care to make Frederik's triumph any greater, or his smile any broader on his account; so he compelled himself to listen to the third part of the memorandum with an expression of polite interest.

"To my lifelong friend, Colonel Lawton, I leave my most cherished possession."

The Colonel preened himself. He stuck his thumbs into the armholes of his vest and wagged his crossed foot complacently. This was to be the real kernel of the memorandum.

His appearance of security was too much for Mrs. Batholommey.

"Oh! When the church hears----"

She was interrupted by Colonel Lawton:

"I don't know why he was called upon to leave anything to the church," he said truculently, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "He gave it thousands, and only last month he put in chimes. As I look at it, he wished to give you something he had used--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in hell--it's the _sentiment_!"

He lay back in his chair again as he fairly chewed on the word 'sentiment.' Once more he crossed his legs, and peered at Frederik through his glasses.

"Drive on, Fred," he ordered.

"To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer book."

As he read, Frederik put one hand into the drawer, and took out a worn prayer book.

Mr. Batholommey smiled, and chuckled behind his hand, but Colonel Lawton seemed dazed. His jaw dropped, and he looked helplessly at Frederik and the others.

"What?" he said in a choking voice. "His prayer book--_me_?"

As in a dream he slowly leaned forward and took it gingerly between two fingers as one might a June bug--gazing at it in amazed horror and incredulity the while.

"Is that all?" demanded Mrs. Batholommey.

"That's all," answered Frederik, bowing to Mrs. Batholommey and smiling radiantly.

Colonel Lawton, still dazed, could only reiterate:

"A prayer book. Me? What for?"

Then he got up slowly.

"Well, I'll be----Here, Parson." As an idea struck him, he turned quickly toward Mr. Batholommey. "Let's shift--you take the prayer book and I'll take the old fob!"

Mr. Batholommey smiled and waved away the offered book.

"Thank you," he said smoothly, "I already have a prayer book."

At this retort, the Colonel wilted completely. Drawing his chair close to the fire he sat down limply and gave himself up to bitter reflection.

Mrs. Batholommey seemed the least able of the three to bear the shattering of her high hopes. She moved around the room restlessly.

"Well, all I can say is"--(her voice shook and her eyes reproached Frederik)--"I'm disappointed in your uncle."

No one paid any attention to her remark, each person being engrossed in his own thoughts. For some moments the air was pregnant with unspoken invective.


CHAPTER XII


MOSTLY CONCERNING GRATITUDE

Finally Colonel Lawton turned toward Frederik. He was now sitting astride his chair and puffing violently at his cigar.

"Is _this_ what you hauled us out in the rain for?" he snarled.

Mrs. Batholommey, all unheeding, went on with her own train of thought.

"I see it all now," she whimpered. "He only gave to the church to show off!"

"Rose!" her husband cried, aghast. "I myself am disappointed, but----"

"_He did!_" interrupted Mrs. Batholommey in tears of wrath. "Oh, why didn't he continue his work? He was not generous. He was a hard, uncharitable, selfish old man."

"Rose, my dear!" remonstrated Mr. Batholommey. "Think what you are saying!"

"He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation sicked _you_ after him. And now he's gone and you'll get nothing more. And they'll call you slow--slow and pokey! You'll see! To-morrow you'll wake up!"

"My dear!" expostulated her husband once more.

But Mrs. Batholommey paid no attention to his words or to the beseeching look that accompanied them. She waved an arm dramatically.

"Here's a man the rector spent half his time with--and for what? A watch fob!"

The ineffable scorn with which she pronounced these last words caused Mr. Batholommey to hang his head.

"You'll see!" she went on. "This will be the end of you! It's not what you preach that counts nowadays. It's what you coax out of the rich parishioners' pockets."

"Mrs. Batholommey!" thundered the clergyman, taking a step forward; but he might as well have tried to stem the ocean.

"The church needs funds to-day. Religion doesn't stand where it did, when a college professor is saying that--that--"--(here her voice broke)--"the Star of Bethlehem was only a comet."

The end of the sentence resolved itself into a veritable wail and she sat down quickly and subsided into her handkerchief.

"My dear!" reiterated the helpless husband.

"Oh!" she wailed through her tears, "if I said all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm"--(here it almost sounded as if she ground her teeth)--"well--I shouldn't be a fit clergyman's wife. Not to leave his dear friends a----"

Again her voice was muffled in the folds of the handkerchief, and Colonel Lawton took advantage of the temporary lull to put in a word.

"He wasn't _liberal_," he said, rising, "but for God's sake, Madam, think what he ought to have done for _me_ after my patiently listening to his plans for twenty years! Mind, I'm not complaining, but what have I got out of it? A Bible!"

"Oh, you've feathered _your_ nest, Colonel!" cried Mrs. Batholommey, recovering somewhat.

"I never came here," retorted Colonel Lawton spitefully, "that _you_ weren't begging!"

"See here, Lawton," the clergyman interrupted truculently, "don't forget who you are speaking to!"

Colonel Lawton waved his hand patronisingly at the clergyman.

"That's all right, Parson. I know who I'm speaking to. We're all in the same boat--one's as good as another--when we're all up against a thing like this. If anything, you two are worse than I am, for you stand for better things. What would your congregation think of either of you if they could look into your hearts this moment and see 'em as they _really_ are?"

"Really are--really are!" cried Mrs. Batholommey. "I'm not ashamed to have any one see my heart as it really is!"

(And Mrs. Batholommey was telling the truth, for she was a good woman at heart, and it was not her fault that she had a human desire for this world's goods for those she loved, for the church, and for herself.)

Here Frederik, who had watched the scene with much amusement at first, came forward through the increasing gloom. He was getting tired of the childish bickering.

"Well, well, well, I'm disgusted," he said, "when I see such heartlessness! He was putty in all your hands."

"Oh, you can defend his memory. _You_ got the money!" cried Mrs. Batholommey, with asperity. "He liked flattery and you gave him what he wanted and you gave him plenty of it."

"Why not?" retorted Frederik calmly, getting a cigarette out of his case. "The rest of you were at the same thing--yes?"

He struck a match and lighted his cigarette as he continued in a disagreeable tone:

"And I had the pleasure of watching him hand out the money that belonged to me--to _me_," he repeated. "My money! What business had he to be generous with my money?"

Still talking, Frederik sat down at the desk.

"If he'd lived much longer, I'd have been a pauper. It's a lucky thing for me he di----"

Frederik had the grace to leave the word unfinished.

Mr. Batholommey broke the slight pause.

"Young man," he said solemnly, "it might have been better if Mr. Grimm had