COLONEL LAWTON. What?

FREDERIK. He was putty in your hands.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes, you can afford to defend his memory--you've got the
money.

FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the
whole town knew it.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the
hour.

FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why
not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had
the pleasure of watching him give you the money that belonged to me--to
_me_--my money.... What business had he to be generous with my money?
[_The_ COLONEL _strikes a match to light his cigar, and, as it flares up,
the face of_ FREDERIK _is seen--distorted with anger._] I'll tell you
this: had he lived much longer, there would have been nothing left for me.
It's a fortunate thing for me that--[_He pauses, knowing that he has said
too much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything is
quiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock._

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Solemnly--breaking the pause._] Young man, it
might have been better had Mr. Grimm given his _all_ to charity--for he
has left his money to an ingrate.

FREDERIK. [_Laughing derisively._] Ha! Ha!