CATHERINE.  Uncle Peter!  Uncle Peter!  Why did you do it?  Why did you ask it?  Oh, dear!  Oh, dear!  If you could see me now. [She stands rigid—­her arms outstretched. MARTA, who has silently entered from the dining-room with fresh candles, goes to CATHERINE.  CATHERINE suddenly buries her face on MARTA’S broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes her eyes.] There, there ...  I mustn’t cry ... others have troubles, too, haven’t they?

MARTA.  Others have troubles, too.

CATHERINE.  I had hoped, Marta, that Annamarie would have heard of Uncle’s loss and come back to us at this time....

MARTA.  If it had only brought us all together once more; but no message ... nothing ...  I cannot understand.

CATHERINE.  She knows that our door is open....

The rain beats against the windows.  A sharp double knock is heard at the door. CATHERINE starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily goes into the next room, taking the DOCTOR’S book with her. MARTA has hurried towards the front door, when the REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY and COLONEL LAWTON appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to escape the storm. MARTA, greeting them, passes of to tell FREDERIK of their presence.  The REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY wears a long, black cloth, rain-proof coat. COLONEL LAWTON wears a rubber poncho. COLONEL LAWTON is a tall man with a thin brown beard and moustache, about forty-eight.  He is dressed in a Prince Albert coat, unpressed trousers, and a negligee shirt.  He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and peering at people before answering them.  The REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY sets his umbrella in the hall and the COLONEL hangs his broad-brimmed hat on the handle—­as though to let it drip.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  Brr!  I believe it’s raining icicles.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Taking off his overshoes.] Gee Whillikins!  What a day!  Good thing the old windmill out yonder is tied up.  Great weather for baptisms, Parson. [There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder. FREDERIK enters.] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy—­at the time you mentioned.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  How are you, Frederik?

COLONEL LAWTON crosses to the fire, followed by the REV.  MR.
BATHOLOMMEY.

FREDERIK. [Who has gone to the desk for a paper lying under a paper-weight.] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle.  I only came across it yesterday. [There is a louder peal of thunder.  A flash of lightning illuminates the room.

COLONEL LAWTON.  I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but he always tore ’em up.  May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?

FREDERIK.  Help yourself.  Pastor?

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  Er—­er—­

COLONEL LAWTON goes to the sideboard and pours out two drinks from a decanter.  A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands over her face. COLONEL LAWTON bolts his whiskey.  The REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY takes a glass and stands with it in his hand.