Page:Poet Lore, volume 35, 1924.pdf/506

 has happened? Or perhaps you can get your apprentice to do it. He is younger and he can run faster.

Andrew.—I fear I could not overtake him if my legs were twice as nimble as the apprentice’s. He will be there by this, and he will not be coming back until after the picnic party has broken up. Besides, what would he think of me if I should run up to him and stammer: “Come home, quick, our Granny has had a fright in the woods”Having worked in this laboratory for the last forty years, my record should give me the privilege of making a little suggestion. And so if you permit me to say, and to back it up with my life if necessary: Mr. Hans is dead, and cannot be here.

Julia.—Why are you so sure, Andrew?

Andrew—You are my witness how the old man has been talking with him here for years after dark. How many times have you and I listened to him together! He talks with him so intimately it is enough give a person the creeps.

Julia—That’s so. Every night after dark, and lately even before dusk, he seems to hear the voice of his son.

Andrew.—Exactly! And could this son come back here and visit him in spirit as he does if his spirit were still in his body?

Julia.—Ah, Andrew!

Andrew.—Ah, ah, my lady! It isn’t so because I happen to think it is. Why had he not come to the old man before we received the report of his death? But the very night after—indeed, that very same night—the father was talking to his son. That was the night he had his second stroke.

Julia.—You don’t know quite everything, Andrew.

Andrew.—I know a lot more than I venture to express. Henceforth I shall keep my mouth shut. (To ) My lady

Ann.—Go tend the flowers, Andrew.

Andrew.—There is no more to do than cover them so that they don’t take the dew (As he goes) If only old Andrew cared to talk! (A long silence. begins her embroidery. She stops, giving  a searching look. Then checks herself and sews on.)

Ann.—Listen to me, Julia. I am going to meet him myself. I am going to find Hans find out if he really has the presumption to rise out of his grave and to come to trouble the living, to whom he has caused enough sorrow already.

Julia.—Are you insane?

Enter, the notary, unobserved.) (He stands at the gate.)

Ann (Suddenly aware of his presence).—Oh, it is you, Notary!