WILLIAM. Where's the bosom of Abraham, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Eh?

WILLIAM. The minister says you're asleep there.

PETER. Stuff and nonsense! I haven't been near the bosom of Abraham.

WILLIAM. Too bad you died before you went to the circus, Mr. Grimm. But it
must be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circus
for nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone to
town?"

PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Come
here, William [_He starts towards the desk._]; would you like to see
someone whom all little boys love--love more than anybody else in the
whole world? [PETER _is standing at the desk with his finger on the torn
pieces of the picture._

WILLIAM. Yes, the clown in the circus.... No ... it isn't a clown; ...
it's our mother.... Yes, I want to see my mother, Annamarie.
[_Unconsciously_ WILLIAM _comes to the desk and sees the torn picture--
picks up a piece and looks at it. Very simply._] Why ... there she is!...
That's her face.

PETER. Ah! You recognize her. Mother's face is there, William, but it's in
little bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her to
everybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world did
she ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them to
thinking.