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.

PETER. [Who has hung up his hat on his own particular peg, affably assenting.] A good idea!

FREDERIK.  The public is expecting it.

PETER.  You think so, my boy?

FREDERIK.  Why, Uncle, you’ve no idea of the stir this tulip has created. 
People stop me in the street to speak of it.

PETER.  Well, well, you surprise me.  I didn’t think it so extraordinary.

FREDERIK.  I’ve had a busy morning, sir, in the packing house.

PETER.  That’s good.  I’m glad to see you taking hold of things, Fritz. [Humourously, touching FREDERIK affectionately on the shoulder.] We mustn’t waste time; for that’s the stuff life’s made of. [Seriously.] It’s a great comfort to me, Frederik, to know that when I’m in my little private room with James, or when I’ve slipped out to the hothouses,—­you are representing me in the offices—­young Mr. Grimm....  James, are you ready for me?

JAMES.  Yes, sir.

PETER.  I’ll attend to the mail in a moment. [Missing CATHERINE, he calls according to the household signal.] Ou—­oo! [He is answered by CATHERINE, who immediately appears from her room, and comes running downstairs.] Catherine, I have news for you.  I’ve named the new rose after you:  “Katie—­a hardy bloomer.”  It’s as red as the ribbon in your hair.