PETER. [Kindly.] Yes, William, most people have to. ...  What made you think of it just then?

WILLIAM. [Points to the DOCTOR.] He said so.  Perhaps in twenty minutes.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Quietly but very sternly.] William! [WILLIAM now understands that he should not have repeated what he heard.

PETER.  Don’t frighten the boy.  Only children tell the truth.  Tell me, William—­you heard the Doctor say that? [WILLIAM is silent.  He keeps his eyes on the CLERGYMAN who is looking at him warningly.  The tears run down his cheeks—­he puts his fingers to his lips—­afraid to speak.] Don’t be frightened.  You heard the Doctor say that?

WILLIAM. [His voice trembling.] Y—­es, sir.

PETER. [Looks round the room—­beginning to understand.] ...  What did you mean, Andrew?

DR. MACPHERSON.  I’ll tell you, Peter, when we’re alone.

PETER.  But ... [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY shakes her finger threateningly at WILLIAM who whimpers.] Never mind.  It popped out; didn’t it, William?  Get the circus tickets and we’ll have a fine time just the same. [WILLIAM goes for the tickets.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  I—­er—­good-morning, dear friend. [Takes PETER’S hand.] Any time you ’phone for me—­day or night—­I’ll run over instantly.  God bless you, sir.  I’ve never come to you for any worthy charity and been turned away—­never.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Suddenly overcome] Good-bye, Mr. Grimm. [In tears, she follows her husband.  The DOCTOR and PETER look at each other.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Cigar in mouth—­very abruptly] It’s cardiac valvular—­a little valve—­[Tapping heart]—­here. [Slaps PETER on the shoulder] There’s my ’phone, [As a bell is heard faintly but persistently ringing across the street] I’ll be back. [Catches up his hat to hasten off.

PETER.  Just a minute.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Turning] Don’t fret yourself, Peter.  You’re not to imagine you’re worse than you are. [Angrily.] Don’t funk!

PETER. [Calmly] That wasn’t my reason for detaining you, Andrew. [With a twinkle in his eye] I merely wanted to say—­

DR. MACPHERSON.  Yes?

PETER.  That if there is anything in that ghost business of yours, I won’t forget to come back and apologize for my want of faith. [The DOCTOR goes home.  FREDERIK stands looking at his UNCLE. There is a long pause. PETER throws up both hands] Rubbish!  Doctors are very often wrong.  It’s all guess work, eh, Fritz?

FREDERIK. [Thinking of his future in case of PETER’S death] Yes, sir.