PETER. We're going to drink to spooks--the Doctor and I.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With a startled cry_.] Oh! [_Lifts her handkerchief to
her eyes_.] How can you! And at a time like this. The very idea--you of
all people!

PETER. [_Coming down with two glasses--handing one to the_ DOCTOR.] You
seem greatly upset, Mrs. Batholommey. Something must have happened.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Nothing, nothing, I assure you. My wife is a trifle
nervous to-day. We must all keep up our spirits, Mr. Grimm.

PETER. Of course. Why not? [_Looking at_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY--_struck_.]
I know why you're crying. You've been to a church wedding. [_To the_
DOCTOR, _lifting his glass_.] To astral envelopes, Andrew. [_They drink._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_With sad resignation_.] You were always kind to us,
dear Mr. Grimm. There never was a kinder, better, sweeter man than you
were.

PETER. Than I _was_?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What _will_ become of William? [_Weeps_.

PETER. William? Why should you worry over William? I am looking after him.
I don't understand--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Seeing that she has gone too far_.] I only meant--it's