As the curtain is raised, the room is empty; but CATHERINE_ is heard singing in the dining-room. JAMES HARTMAN, PETER’S secretary, opens his door to listen, a small bundle of letters in his hand.  He is a well set up young man, rather blunt in his manner, and a trifle careless in his dress.  After a pause, he goes back into the office, leaving the door ajar.  Presently CATHERINE enters.  In spite of her youth and girlish appearance, she is a good, thrifty housekeeper.  She wears a simple summer gown, and carries a bunch of gay tulips and an old silver pitcher, from which she presently pours water into the Harlequin Delft vase on PETER GRIMM’S desk.  She peeps into the office, retreating, with a smile on her lips, as JAMES appears._

CATHERINE.  Did I disturb you, James?

JAMES. [On the threshold.] No indeed.

CATHERINE.  Do you like your new work?

JAMES.  Anything to get back to the gardens, Catherine.  I’ve always done outside work and I prefer it; but I would shovel dirt rather than work for any one else.

CATHERINE. [Amused.] James!

JAMES.  It’s true.  When the train reached the Junction, and a boy presented the passengers with the usual flower and the “compliments of Peter Grimm”—­it took me back to the time when that was my job; and when I saw the old sign, “Grimm’s Botanic Gardens and Nurseries”—­I wanted to jump off the train and run through the grounds.  It seemed as though every tulip called “hello” to me.

CATHERINE.  Too bad you left college!  You had only one more year.

JAMES.  Poor father!  He’s very much disappointed.  Father has worked in the dirt in overalls—­a gardener—­all his life; and, of course, he over-estimates an education.  He’s far more intelligent than most of our college professors.

CATHERINE.  I understand why you came back.  You simply must live where things grow, mustn’t you, James?  So must I. Have you seen our orchids?

JAMES.  Orchids are pretty; but they’re doing wonderful things with potatoes these days.  I’d rather improve the breed of a squash than to have an orchid named after me.  Wonderful discovery of Luther Burbank’s—­ creating an edible cactus.  Sometimes I feel bitter thinking what I might have done with vegetables, when I was wasting time studying Greek.

CATHERINE. [Changing suddenly.] James:  why don’t you try to please Uncle Peter Grimm?

JAMES.  I do; but he is always asking my opinion, and when I give it, he blows up.

CATHERINE. [Coaxingly.] Don’t be quite so blunt.  Try to be like one of the family.

JAMES.  I’m afraid I shall never be like one of this family.

CATHERINE.  Why not?  I’m no relation at all; and yet—­

JAMES. [Making a resolution.] I’ll do my best to agree with him. [Offering his hand.] It’s a promise. [They shake hands.