JAMES. [_Coolly._] Yes; it's _very_ pretty if it turns out well.

PETER. How can it turn out otherwise?

JAMES. To me, sir, it's not a question of sentiment--of where her children
shall play, so long as they play happily.

PETER. What? Her children can play anywhere--in China if they want to! Are
you in your senses? A fine reward for giving a child all your affection--
to live to see her children playing in China. No, sir! I propose to keep
my household together, by your leave. [_Banging his clenched fist on the
desk._] It's my plan. [_Cleans his pipe, looking at_ JAMES _from time to
time._ JAMES _posts the letters in a mail-box outside the door._ PETER
_goes to the window, calling off._] Otto! Run to the office and tell Mr.
Frederik he may come in now. [_The voice of a gruff Dutchman: "Het is
pastoor's dag."_ (It is the pastor's day.)] Ah, yes; I had forgotten. It's
William's day to take flowers to the Pastor. [_A knock is heard and, as_
PETER _calls "Come in,"_ WILLIAM, _a delicate child of eight, stands
timidly in the doorway of the dining-room, hat in hand._] How are you
to-day, William? [_Pats_ WILLIAM _on the shoulder._

WILLIAM. The Doctor says I'm well now.

PETER. Good! Then you shall take flowers to the church. [_Calls off._] A
big armful, Otto!

MARTA _has entered with a neatly folded, clean handkerchief which she
tucks into_ WILLIAM'S _breast pocket._

PETER. [_In a low voice, to_ JAMES.] There's your example of freedom!