In the middle of the afternoon the Harvester arose and went into the
lake, ate a hearty dinner, and then took up his watch again. For two
days and nights he kept his place, until he had the Girl out of danger,
and where careful nursing was all that was required to insure life
and health. As he sat beside her the last day, his physical endurance
strained to the breaking point, she laid her hand over his, and looked
long and steadily into his eyes.
“There are so many things I want to know,” she said.
The Harvester's firm fingers closed over hers. “Ruth, have you ever been
sorry that you trusted me?”
“Never!” said the Girl instantly.
“Then suppose you keep it up,” said he. “Whatever it is that you want
to know, don't use an iota of strength to talk or to think about it now.
Just say to yourself, he loves me well enough to do what is right, and
I know that he will. All you have to do is to be patient until you grow
stronger than you ever have been in your life, and then you shall have
exactly what you want, Ruth. Sleep like a baby for a week or two. Then,
slowly and gradually, we will build up such a constitution for you that
you shall ride, drive, row, swim, dance, play, and have all that your
girlhood has missed in fun and frolic, and all that your womanhood
craves in love and companionship. Happiness has come at last, Ruth. Take
it from me. Everything you crave is yours. The love you want, the home,
and the life. As soon as you are strong enough, you shall know all about
it. Your business is to drink stimulants and sleep now, dear.”
“So tired of this bed!”
“It won't be long until you can lie on the couch and the veranda swing
again.”
“Glory!” said the Girl. “David, I must have been full of fever for a
long time. I can't remember everything.”
“Don't try, I tell you. Life is coming out right for you; that's all you
need know now.”
“And for you, David?”
“Whenever things are right for you, they are for me, Ruth.”
“Don't you ever think of yourself?”
“Not when I am close you.”
“Ah! Then I shall have to grow strong very soon and think of you.”
The Harvester's smile was pathetic. He was unspeakably tired again.
“Never mind me!” he said. “Only get well.”
“David, was there a little horse?”
“There certainly was and is,” said the Harvester.
“You had not named him yet, but in a few days I can lead him to the
window.”
“Was there something said about a boat?”
“Two of them.”
“Two?”
“Yes. A row boat for you, and a launch that will take you all over the
lake with only the exertion of steering on your part.”
“David, I want my pendant and ring. I am so tired of lying here, I want
to play with them.”
“Where do you keep them, Ruth?”
“In the willow teapot. I thought no one would look there.”
The Harvester laughed and brought the little boxes. He had to open them,
but the Girl put on the ring and asked him if he would not help her with
the pendant. He slipped the thread around her neck and clasped it. With
a sigh of satisfaction she took the ornament in one hand and closed her
eyes. He thought she was falling asleep, but presently she looked at
him.
“You won't allow them to take it from me?”
“Indeed no! There is no reason on earth why you should not have that
thread around your neck if you want it.”
“I am going to sleep now. I want two things. May I have them?”
“You may,” said the Harvester promptly, “provided they are not to eat.”
“No,” said the Girl. “I've suffered and made others trouble. I won't
bother you by asking for anything more than is brought me. This is
different. You are completely worn out. Your face frightens me, David,
and white hairs that were not there a few days ago have come along your
temples. I can see them.”
“You gave me a mighty serious scare, Ruth.”
“I know,” said the Girl. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to. I want you to
leave me to Doctor Harmon and the nurse and go sleep a week. Then I
will be ready for the swing, and to hear some more about the trees and
birds.”
“I can keep it up if you really need me, but if you don't I am sleepy.
So, if you feel safe, I think I will go.”
“Oh I am safe enough,” said the Girl. “It isn't that. I'm so lonely.
I've made up my mind not to grieve for mother, but I miss her so now. I
feel so friendless.”
“But, honey,” said the Harvester, “you mustn't do that! Don't you see
how all of us love you? Here is Granny shutting up her house and living
here, just to be with you. The nurse will do anything you say. Here is
the man you know best, and think so much of, staying in the cabin, and
so happy to give you all his time, and anything else you will have,
dear. And the Careys come every day, and will do their best to comfort
you, and always I am here for you to fall back on.”
“Yes, I'm falling right now,” said the Girl. “I almost wish I had the
fever again. No one has touched me for days. I feel as if every one was
afraid of me.”
The Harvester was puzzled.
“Well, Ruth, I'm doing the best I know,” he said. “What is it you want?”
“Nothing!” answered the Girl with slightly dejected inflection. “Say
good-bye to me, and go sleep your week. I'll be very good, and then you
shall take me a drive up the hill when you awaken. Won't that be fine?”
“Say good-bye to me!” She felt a “little lonely!” They all acted as if
they were “afraid” of her. The Harvester indulged in a flashing mental
review and arrived at a decision. He knelt beside the bed, took both
slender, cool hands and covered them with kisses. Then he slid a hand
under the pillow and raised the tired head.
“If I am to say good-bye, I have to do it in my own way, Ruth,” he said.
Thereupon he began at the tumbled mass of hair and kissed from her
forehead to her lips, kisses warm and tender.
“Now you go to sleep, and grow strong enough by the time I come back to
tell me whom you love,” he said, and went from the room without waiting
for any reply.
With short intervals for food and dips in the lake the Harvester very
nearly slept the week. When he finally felt himself again, he bathed,
shaved, dressed freshly, and went to see the Girl. He had to touch her
to be sure she was real. She was extremely weak and tremulous, but her
face and hands were fuller, her colour was good, she was ravenously
hungry. Doctor Harmon said she was a little tryant, and the nurse that
she was plain cross. The first thing the Harvester noticed was that the
dull blue look in the depth of the dark eyes was gone. They were clear,
dusky wells, with shining lights at the bottom.
“Well I never would have believed it!” he cried. “Doctor Harmon, you
are a great physician! You have made her all over new, and in a few more
days she will be on the veranda. This is great!”
“Do I appear so much better to you, Harvester?” asked the Girl.
“Has no one thought to show you,” cried the Harvester. “Here, let me!”
He stepped to her dressing table, picked up a mirror, and held it before
her so that she could see herself.
“Seems to me I am dreadfully white and thin yet!”
“If you had seen what I saw ten days ago, my Girl, you would think you
appear like a pink, rosy angel now, or a wonderful dream.”
“Truly, do I in the least resemble a dream, David?”
“You are a dream. The loveliest one a man ever had. With three months of
right care and exercise you'll be the beautiful woman nature intended.
I'm so proud of you. You are being so brave! Just lie there in patience
a few more days, and out you come again to life; and life that will
thrill your being with joy.”
“All right,” said the Girl, “I will. David are you attending to your
herbs?”
“Not for a few weeks.”
“You are very much behind?”
“No. Nothing important. I don't make enough to count on what is ready
now. I can soon gather jimson leaves and seed to fill orders, the
hemlock is about right to take the fruit, the mustard is yet in pod, and
the saffron and wormseed can be attended later. I can catch up in two
days.”
“What about----about the big bed on the hill?”
The Harvester experienced an inward thrill of delight. She was so
impressed with the value of the ginseng she would not mention it,
even before the man she loved----no more than that----“adored”----
“worshipped!” He smiled at her in understanding.
“I'll have to take a peep at that and report,” he said.
“Are you rested now?”
“Indeed yes!”
“You are dreadfully thin.”
“I always am. I'll pick up a little when I get back to work.”
“David, I want you to go to work now.”
“Can you spare me?”
“Haven't we done well these last few days?”
“I can't tell you how well.”
“Then please go gather everything you need to fill orders except the big
bed, and by that time maybe you could take another week off, and I could
go to the hill top and on the lake. I'm so anxious to put my feet on the
earth. They feel so dead.”
“Are your feet well rubbed to draw down the circulation?”
“They are rubbed shiny and almost skinned, David. No one ever had better
care, of that I am sure. Go gather what you should have.”
“All right,” said the Harvester.
He arose and as he started to leave the room he took one last look at
the Girl to see if he could detect anything he could suggest for
her comfort, and read a message in her eyes. Instantly there was an
answering flash in his.
“I'll be back in a minute,” he said. “I just noticed discorea villosa
has the finest rattle boxes formed. I've been waiting to show you. And
the hop tree has its castanets all green and gold. In a few more weeks
it will begin to play for you. I'll bring you some.”
Soon he returned with the queer seed formations, and as he bent above
her, with his back to Doctor Harmon, he whispered, “What is it?”
Her lips barely formed the one word, “Hurry!”
The Harvester straightened.
“All comfortable, Ruth?” he asked casually.
“Yes.”
“You understand, of course, that there is not the slightest necessity
for my going to work if you really want me for anything, even if it's
nothing more than to have me within calling distance, in case you SHOULD
want something. The whole lot I can gather now won't amount to twenty
dollars. It's merely a matter of pride with me to have what is called
for. I'd much rather remain, if you can use me in any way at all.”
“Twenty dollars is considerable, when expenses are as heavy as now. And
it's worth more than any money to you not to fail when orders come. I
have learned that, and David, I don't want you to either. You must
fill all demands as usual. I wouldn't forgive myself this winter if you
should be forced to send orders only partly filled because I fell ill
and hindered you. Please go and gather all you possibly will need of
everything you take at this season, only remember!”
“There is no danger of my forgetting. If you are going to send me away
to work, you will allow me to kiss your hand before I go, fair lady?”
He did it fervently.
“One word with you, Harmon,” he said as he left the room.
Doctor Harmon arose and followed him to the gold garden, and together
they stood beside the molten hedge of sunflowers, coneflowers,
elecampane, and jewel flower.
“I merely want to mention that this is your inning,” said the Harvester.
“Find out if you are essential to the Girl's happiness as soon as you
can, and the day she tells me so, I will file her petition and take a
trip to the city to study some little chemical quirks that bother me.
That's all.”
The Harvester went to the dry-house for bags and clipping shears, and
the doctor returned to the sunshine room.
“Ruth,” he said, “do you know that the Harvester is the squarest man I
ever met?”
“Is he?” asked the Girl.
“He is! He certainly is!”
“You must remember that I have little acquaintance with men,” said she.
“You are the first one I ever knew, and the only one except him.”
“Well I try to be square,” said Doctor Harmon, “but that is where
Langston has me beaten a mile. I have to try. He doesn't. He was born
that way.”
The Girl began to laugh.
“His environment is so different,” she said. “Perhaps if he were in a
big city, he would have to try also.”
“Won't do!” said the doctor. “He chose his location. So did I. He is a
stronger physical man than I ever was or ever will be. The struggle
that bound him to the woods and to research, that made him the master
of forces that give back life, when a man like Carey says it is the
end, proves him a master. The tumult in his soul must have been like a
cyclone in his forest, when he turned his back on the world and stuck to
the woods. Carey told me about it. Some day you must hear. It's a story
a woman ought to know in order to arrive at proper values. You never
will understand the man until you know that he is clean where most of
us are blackened with ugly sins we have no right on God's footstool to
commit and not so much reason as he. Every man should be as he is, but
very few are. Carey says Langston's mother was a wonderful element in
the formation of his character; but all mothers are anxious, and none of
them can build with no foundation and no soul timber. She had material
for a man to her hand, or she couldn't have made one.”
“I see what you mean.”
“So far as any inexperienced girl ever sees,” said the doctor. “Some day
if you live to fifty you will know, but you can't comprehend it now.”
“If you think I lived all my life in Chicago's poverty spots and don't
know unbridled human nature!”
“I found you and your mother unusually innocent women. You may
understand some things. I hope you do. It will help you to decide who is
the real man among the men who come into your life. There are some men,
Ruth, who are fit to mate with a woman, and to perpetuate themselves and
their mental and moral forces in children, who will be like them, and
there are others who are not. It is these 'others' who are responsible
for the sin of the world, the sickness and suffering. Any time you are
sure you have a chance at a moral man, square and honest, in control of
his brain and body, if you are a wise woman, Ruth, stick to him as the
limpet to the rock.”
“You mean stick to the Harvester?”
“If you are a wise woman!”
“When was a woman ever wise?”
“A few have been. They are the only care-free, really happy ones of the
world, the only wives without a big, poison, blue-bottle fly in their
ointment.”
“I detest flies!” said the Girl.
“So do I,” said the doctor. “For this reason I say to you choose the
ointment that never had one in it. Take the man who is 'master of his
fate, captain of his soul.' Stick to the Harvester! He is infinitely the
better man!”
“Well have you seen anything to indicate that I wasn't sticking?” asked
the Girl.
“No. And for your sake I hope I never will.”
She laughed softly.
“You do love him, Ruth?”
“As I did my mother, yes. There is not a trace in my heart of the thing
he calls love.”
“You have been stunted, warped, and the fountains of life never have
opened. It will come with right conditions of living.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. At least there is no one else you love, Ruth?”
“No one except you.”
“And do you feel about me just as you do him?”
“No! It is different. What I owe him is for myself. What I owe you is
for my mother. You saw! You know! You understand what you did for her,
and what it meant to me. The Harvester must be the finest man on earth,
but when I try to think of either God or Heaven, your face intervenes.”
“That's all right, Ruth, I'm so glad you told me,” said Doctor Harmon.
“I can make it all perfectly clear to you. You just go on and worship me
all you please. It's bound to make a cleaner, better man of me. What you
feel for me will hold me to a higher moral level all my life than I ever
have known before; but never forget that you are not going to live in
Heaven. You will be here at least sixty years yet, so when you come to
think of selecting a partner for the relations of the world, you stick
to the finest man on earth; see?”
“I do!” said the Girl. “I saw you kiss Molly a week ago. She is lovely,
and I hope you will be perfectly happy. It won't interfere with my
worshipping you; not the least in the world. Go ahead and be joyful!”
The doctor sprang to his feet in crimson confusion. The Girl lay and
laughed at him.
“Don't!” she cried. “It's all right! It takes a weight off my soul as
heavy as a mountain. I do adore you, as I said. But every hour since I
left Chicago a big, black cloud has hung over me. I didn't feel free.
I didn't feel absolved. I felt that my obligations to you were so heavy
that when I had settled the last of the money debt I was in honour
bound----”
“Don't, Ruth! Forget those dreadful times, as I told you then! Think
only of a happy future!”
“Let me finish,” said the Girl. “Let me get this out of my system with
the other poison. From the day I came here, I've whispered in my heart,
'I am not free!' But if you love another woman! If you are going to
take her to your heart and to your lips, why that is my release. Oh Man,
speak the words! Tell me I am free indeed!”
“Ruth, be quiet, for mercy sake! You'll raise a temperature, and the
Harvester will pitch me into the lake. You are free, child, of course!
You always have been. I understood the awful pressure that was on you
with the very first glimpse I had of your mother. Who was she, Ruth?”
“She never would tell me.”
“She thought you would appeal to her people?”
“She knew I would! I couldn't have helped it.”
“Would you like to know?”
“I never want to. It is too late. I infinitely prefer to remain in
ignorance. Talk of something else.”
“Let me read a wonderful book I found on the Harvester's shelves.”
“Anything there will contain wonders, because he only buys what appeals
to him, and it takes a great book to do that. I am going to learn. He
will teach me, and when I come within comprehending distance of him,
then we are going on together.”
“What an attractive place this is!”
“Isn't it? I only have seen enough to understand the plan. I scarcely
can wait to set my feet on earth and go into detail. Granny Moreland
says that when spring comes over the hill, and brings up the flowers in
the big woods, she'd rather walk through them than to read Revelation.
She says it gives her an idea of Heaven she can come closer realizing
and it seems more stable. You know she worries about the foundations.
She can't understand what supports Heaven. But up there in Medicine
Woods the old dear gets so close her God that some day she is going to
realize that her idea of Heaven there is quite as near right as marble
streets and gold pillars and vastly more probable. The day I reach that
hill top again, Heaven begins for me. Do you know the wonderful thing
the Harvester did up there?”
“Under the oak?”
“Yes.”
“Carey told me. It was marvellous.”
“Not such a marvel as another the doctor couldn't have known. The
Harvester made passing out so natural, so easy, so a part of elemental
forces, that I almost have forgotten her tortured body. When I think of
her now, it is to wonder if next summer I can distinguish her whisper
among the leaves. Before you go, I'll take you up there and tell you
what he says, and show you what he means, and you will feel it also.”
“What if I shouldn't go?”
“What do you mean?”
“Doctor Carey has offered me a splendid position in his hospital. There
would be work all day, instead of waiting all day in the hope of working
an hour. There would be a living in it for two from the word go. There
would be better air, longer life, more to be got out of it, and if I can
make good, Carey's work to take up as he grows old.”
“Take it! Take it quickly!” cried the Girl. “Don't wait a minute! You
might wear out your heart in Chicago for twenty years or forever, and
not have an opportunity to do one half so much good. Take it at once!”
“I was waiting to learn what you and Langston would say.”
“He will say take it.”
“Then I will be too happy for words. Ruth, you have not only paid the
debt, but you have brought me the greatest joy a man ever had. And there
is no need to wait the ages I thought I must. He can tell in a year if I
can do the work, and I know I can now; so it's all settled, if Langston
agrees.”
“He will,” said the Girl. “Let me tell him!”
“I wish you would,” said the doctor. “I don't know just how to go at
it.”
Then for two days the Harvester and Belshazzar gathered herbs and spread
them on the drying trays. On the afternoon of the third, close three,
the doctor came to the door.
“Langston,” he said, “we have a call for you. We can't keep Ruth quiet
much longer. She is tired. We want to change her bed completely. She
won't allow either of us to lift her. She says we hurt her. Will you
come and try it?”
“You'll have to give me time to dip and rub off and get into clean
clothing,” he said. “I've been keeping away, because I was working on
time, and I smell to strangulation of stramonium and saffron.”
“Can't give you ten seconds,” said the doctor. “Our temper is getting
brittle. We are cross as the proverbial fever patient. If you don't come
at once we will imagine you don't want to, and refuse to be moved at
all.”
“Coming!” cried the Harvester, as he plunged his hands in the wash bowl
and soused his face. A second later he appeared on the porch.
“Ruth,” he said, “I am steeped in the odours of the dry-house. Can't you
wait until I bathe and dress?”
“No, I can't,” said a fretful voice. “I can't endure this bed another
minute.”
“Then let Doctor Harmon lift you. He is so fresh and clean.”
The Harvester glanced enviously at the shaven face and white trousers
and shirt of the doctor.
“I just hate fresh, clean men. I want to smell herbs. I want to put my
feet in the dirt and my hands in the water.”
The Harvester came at a rush. He brought a big easy chair from the
living-room, straightened the cover, and bent above the Girl. He picked
her up lightly, gently, and easing her to his body settled in the chair.
She laid her face on his shoulder, and heaved a deep sigh of content.
“Be careful with my back, Man,” she said. “I think my spine is almost
worn through.”
“Poor girl,” said the Harvester. “That bed should be softer.”
“It should not!” contradicted the Girl. “It should be much harder. I'm
tired of soft beds. I want to lie on the earth, with my head on a root;
and I wish it would rain dirt on me. I am bathed threadbare. I want to
be all streaky.”
“I understand,” said the Harvester. “Harmon, bring me a pad and pencil
a minute, I must write an order for some things I want. Will you call up
town and have them sent out immediately?”
On the pad he wrote: “Telephone Carey to get the highest grade
curled-hair mattress, a new pad, and pillow, and bring them flying in
the car. Call Granny and the girl and empty the room. Clean, air, and
fumigate it thoroughly. Arrange the furniture differently, and help me
into the living-room with Ruth.” He handed the pad to the doctor.
“Please attend to that,” he said, and to the Girl: “Now we go on a
journey. Doc, you and Molly take the corners of the rug we are on and
slide us into the other room until you get this aired and freshened.”
In the living-room the Girl took one long look at the surroundings
and suddenly relaxed. She cuddled against the Harvester and lifting a
tremulous white hand, drew it across his unshaven cheek.
“Feels so good,” she said. “I'm sick and tired of immaculate men.”
The Harvester laughed, tucked her feet in the cover and held her
tenderly. The Girl lay with her cheek against the rough khaki, palpitant
with the excitement of being moved.
“Isn't it great?” she panted.
He caught the hand that had touched his cheek in a tender grip, and
laughed a deep rumble of exultation that came from the depths of his
heart.
“There's no name for it, honey,” he said. “But don't try to talk until
you have a long rest. Changing positions after you have lain so long may
be making unusual work for your heart. Am I hurting your back?”
“No,” said the Girl. “This is the first time I have been comfortable in
ages. Am I tiring you?”
“Yes,” laughed the Harvester. “You are almost as heavy as a large sack
of leaves, but not quite equal to a bridge pillar or a log. Be sure to
think of that, and worry considerably. You are in danger of straining my
muscles to the last degree, my heart included.”
“Where is your heart?” whispered the Girl.
“Right under your cheek,” answered the Harvester. “But for Heaven's
sake, don't intimate that you are taking any interest in it, or it will
go to pounding until your head will bounce. It's one member of my body
that I can't control where you are concerned.”
“I thought you didn't like me any more.”
“Careful!” warned the Harvester. “You are yet too close Heaven to fib
like that, Ruth. What have I done to indicate that I don't love you more
than ever?”
“Stayed away nearly every minute for three awful days, and wouldn't come
without being dragged; and now you're wishing they would hurry and fix
that bed, so you can put me down and go back to your rank old herbs
again.”
“Well of all the black prevarications! I went when you sent me, and
came when you called. I'd willingly give up my hope of what Granny calls
'salvation' to hold you as I am for an hour, and you know it.”
“It's going to be much longer than that,” said the Girl nestling to him.
“I asked for you because you never hurt me, and they always do. I knew
you were so strong that my weight now wouldn't be a load for one of your
hands, and I am not going back to that bed until I am so tired that I
will be glad to lie down.”
For a long time she was so silent the Harvester thought her going to
sleep; and having learned that for him joy was probably transient, he
deliberately got all he could. He closely held the hand she had not
withdrawn, and often lifted it to his lips. Sometimes he stroked the
heavy braid, gently ran his hands across the tired shoulders, or eased
her into a different position. There was not a doubt in his mind of one
thing. He was having a royal, good time, and he was thankful for the
work he had set his assistants that kept them out of the room. They
seemed in no hurry, and from scuffling, laughing, and a steady stream of
talk, they were entertained at least. At last the Girl roused.
“There is something I want to ask you,” she said. “I promised Doctor
Harmon I would.”
Instantly the heart of the Harvester gave a leap that jarred the head
resting on it.
“You don't like him?” questioned the Girl.
“I do!” declared the Harvester. “I like him immensely. There is not a
fine, manly good-looking feature about him that I have missed. I don't
fail to do him justice on every point.”
“I'm so glad! Then you will want him to remain.”
“Here?” asked the Harvester with a light, hot breath.
“In Onabasha! Doctor Carey has offered him the place of chief assistant
at the hospital. There is a good salary and the chance of taking up
the doctor's work as he grows older. It means plenty to do at once,
healthful atmosphere, congenial society----everything to a young man.
He only had a call once in a while in Chicago, often among people who
received more than they paid, like me, and he was very lonely. I think
it would be great for him.”
“And for you, Ruth?”
“It doesn't make the least difference to me; but for his sake, because I
think so much of him, I would like to see him have the place.”
“You still think so much of him, Ruth?”
“More, if possible,” said the Girl. “Added to all I owed him before, he
has come here and worked for days to save me, and it wasn't his fault
that it took a bigger man. Nothing alters the fact that he did all he
could, most graciously and gladly.”
“What do you mean, Ruth?” stammered the Harvester.
“Oh they have worn themselves out!” cried the Girl impatiently. “First,
Granny Moreland told me every least little detail of how I went out, and
you resurrected me. I knew what she said was true, because she worked
with you. Then Doctor Carey told me, and Mrs. Carey, and Doctor Harmon,
and Molly, and even Granny's little assistant has left the kitchen to
tell me that I owe my life to you, and all of them might as well have
saved breath. I knew all the time that if ever I came out of this, and
had a chance to be like other women, it would be your work, and I'm glad
it is. I'd hate to be under obligations to some people I know; but I
feel honoured to be indebted to you.”
“I'm mighty sorry they worried you. I had no idea----”
“They didn't 'worry,' me! I am just telling you that I knew it all the
time; that's all!”
“Forget that!” said the Harvester. “Come back to our subject. What was
it you wanted, dear?”
“To know if you have any objections to Doctor Harmon remaining in
Onabasha?”
“Certainly not! It will be a fine thing for him.”
“Will it make any difference to you in any way?”
“Ruth, that's probing too deep,” said the Harvester.
“I don't see why!”
“I'm glad of it!”
“Why?”
“I'd least rather show my littleness to you than to any one else on
earth.”
“Then you have some feeling about it?”
“Perhaps a trifle. I'll get over it. Give me a little time to adjust
myself. Doctor Harmon shall have the place, of course. Don't worry about
that!”
“He will be so happy!”
“And you, Ruth?”
“I'll be happy too!”
“Then it's all right,” said the Harvester.
He laid down her hand, drew the cover over it, and slightly shifted her
position to rest her. The door opened, and Doctor Harmon announced that
the room was ready. It was shining and fresh. The bed was now turned
with its head to the north, so that from it one could see the big
trees in Medicine Woods, the sweep of the hillside, the sparkle of
mallow-bordered Singing Water, the driveway and the gold flower
garden. Everything was so changed that the room had quite a different
appearance. The instant he laid her on it the Girl said, “This bed is
not mine.”
“Yes it is,” said the Harvester. “You see, we were a little excited
sometimes, and we spilled a few quarts of perfectly good medicine on
your mattress. It was hopelessly smelly and ruined; so I am going to
cremate it and this is your splinter new one and a fresh pad and
pillow. Now you try them and see if they are not much harder and more
comfortable.”
“This is just perfect!” she sighed, as she sank into the bed.
The Harvester bent over her to straighten the cover, when suddenly
she reached both arms around his neck, and gripped him with all her
strength.
“Thank you!” she said.
“May I hold you to-morrow?” whispered the Harvester, emboldened by this.
“Please do,” said the Girl.
The Harvester, with dog to heel, went to the oak to think.
“Belshazzar, kommen Sie!” said the man, dropping on the seat and holding
out his hand. The dog laid his muzzle in the firm grip.
“Bel,” said the Harvester, “I am all at sea. One day I think maybe I
have a little chance, the next----none at all. I had an hour of solid
comfort to-day, now I'm in the sweat box again. It's a little selfish
streak in me, Bel, that hates to see Harmon go into the hospital and
take my place with the Careys. They are my best and only friends. He is
young, social, handsome, and will be ever present. In three months he
will become so popular that I might as well be off the earth. I wish I
didn't think it, but I'm so small that I do. And then there is my
Dream Girl, Bel. The girl you found for me, old fellow. There never was
another like her, and she has my heart for all time. And he has hers.
That hospital plan is the best thing in the world for her. It will keep
her where Carey can have an eye on her, where the air is better, where
she can have company without the city crush, where she is close the
country, and a good living is assured. Bel, it's the nicest arrangement
you ever saw for every one we know, except us.”
The Harvester laughed shortly. “Bel,” he said, “tell me! If a man lived
a hundred years, could he have the heartache all the way? Seems like
I've had it almost that long now. In fact, I've had it such ages I'd
be lonesome without it. This is some more of my very own medicine, so I
shouldn't make a wry face over taking it. I knew what would happen when
I sent for him, and I didn't hesitate. I must not now.
“Only I got to stop one thing, Bel. I told him I would play square,
and I have. But here it ends. After this, I must step back and be big
brother. Lots of fun in this brother business, Bel. But maybe I am cut
out for it. Anyway it's written! But if it is, how did she come to allow
me such privileges as I took to-day? That wasn't professional by any
means. It was just the stiffest love-making I knew how to do, Bel, and
she didn't object by the quiver of an eyelash. God knows I was watching
closely enough for any sign that I was distasteful. And I might have
been well enough. Rough, herb-stained old clothes, unshaven, everything
to offend a dainty girl. She said I might hold her again to-morrow. And,
Bel, what the nation did she hug me like that for, if she's going to
marry him? Boy, I see my way clear to an hour more. While I'm at it,
just to surprise myself, I believe I'll take it like other men. I think
I'll go on a little bender, and make what probably will be the last day
a plumb good one. Something worth remembering is better than nothing
at all, Bel! He hasn't told me that he has won. She didn't SAY she was
going to marry him, and she did say he hurt her, and she wanted me. Bel,
how about the grimness of it, if she should marry him and then discover
that he hurts her, and she wants me. Lord God Almighty, if you have any
mercy at all, never put me up against that,” prayed the Harvester, “for
my heart is water where she is concerned.”
The Harvester arose, and going to the lake, he cut an arm load of big,
pink mallows, covered each mound with fresh flowers, whistled to the
dog, and went to his work. Many things had accumulated, and he cleaned
the barn, carried herbs from the dry-house to the store-room, and put
everything into shape. Close noon the next day he went to Onabasha, and
was gone three hours. He came back barbered in the latest style, and
carrying a big bundle. When the hour for arranging the bed came, he was
yet in his room, but he sent word he would be there in a second.
As he crossed the living-room he pulled a chair to the veranda and
placed a footstool before it. Then he stepped into the sunshine room. A
quizzical expression crossed the face of Doctor Harmon as he closed the
book he was reading aloud to the Girl and arose. Wholly unembarrassed
the Harvester smiled.
“Have I got this rigging anywhere near right?” he inquired.
“David, what have you done?” gasped the amazed Girl.
“I didn't feel anywhere near up to the 'mark of my high calling'
yesterday,” quoted the Harvester. “I don't know how I appear, but I'm
clean as shaving, soap and hot water will make me, and my clothing will
not smell offensively. Now come out of that bed for a happy hour. Where
is that big coverlet? You are going on the veranda to-day.”
“You look just like every one else,” complained Doctor Harmon.
“You look perfectly lovely,” declared the Girl.
“The swale sends you this invitation to come and see star-shine at the
foot of mullein hill,” said the Harvester, offering a bouquet. It was a
loose bunch of long-stemmed, delicate flowers, each an inch across, and
having five pearl-white petals lightly striped with pale green. Five
long gold anthers arose, and at their base gold stamens and a green
pistil. The leaves were heart-shaped and frosty, whitish-green,
resembling felt. The Harvester bent to offer them.
“Have some Grass of Parnassus, my dear,” he said.
The Girl waved them away. “Go stand over there by the door and slowly
turn around. I want to see you.”
The Harvester obeyed. He was freshly and carefully shaven. His hair
was closely cropped at the base of the head, long, heavy, and slightly
waving on top. He wore a white silk shirt, with a rolling collar and
tie, white trousers, belt, hose, and shoes, and his hands were manicured
with care.
“Have I made a mess of it, or do I appear anything like other men?” he
asked, eagerly.
The Girl lifted her eyes to Doctor Harmon and smiled.
“Do you observe anything messy?” she inquired.
“You needn't fish for compliments quite so obviously,” he answered.
“I'll pay them without being asked. I do not. He is quite correct, and
infinitely better looking than the average. Distinguished is a proper
word for the gentleman in my opinion. But why, in Heaven's name, have we
never had the pleasure of seeing you thus before?”
“Look here, Doc,” said the Harvester, “do you mean that you enjoy
looking at me merely because I am dressed this way?”
“I do indeed,” said the doctor. “It is good to see you with the garb of
work laid aside, and the stamp of cleanliness and ease upon you.”
“By gum, that is rubbing it in a little too rough!” cried the Harvester.
“I bathe oftener than you do. My clothing is always clean when I start
out. Of course, in my work I come hourly in contact with muck, water,
and herb juices.”
“It's understood that is unavoidable,” said Doctor Harmon.
“And if cleanliness is made an issue, I'd rather roll in any of it
than put my finger tips into the daily work of a surgeon,” added the
Harvester, and the Girl giggled.
“That's enough Medicine Man!” she said. “You did not make a 'mess' of
it, or anything else you ever attempted. As for appearing like other
men, thank Heaven, you do not. You look just a whole world bigger and
better and finer. Come, carry me out quickly. I am wild to go. Please
put my lovely flowers in water, Molly, only give me a few to hold.”
The Harvester arranged the pink coverlet, picked up the Girl, and
carried her to the living-room.
“We will rest here a little,” he said, “and then, if you feel equal to
it, we will try the veranda. Are you easy now?”
She nestled her face against the soft shirt and smiled at him. She
lifted her hand, laid it on his smooth cheek and then the crisp hair.
“Oh Man!” she cried. “Thank God you didn't give me up, too! I want life!
I want LIFE!”
The Harvester tightened his grip just a trifle. “Then I thank God, too,”
he said. “Can you tell me how you are, dear? Is there any difference?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I grow tired lying so long, but there isn't the
ghost of an ache in my bones. I can just feel pure, delicious blood
running in my veins. My hands and feet are always warm, and my head
cool.”
The Harvester's face drew very close. “How about your heart, honey?” he
whispered. “Anything new there?”
“Yes, I am all over new inside and out. I want to shout, run, sing, and
swim. Oh I'd give anything to have you carry me down and dip me in the
lake right now.”
“Soon, Girl! That will come soon,” prophesied the Harvester.
“I scarcely can wait. And you did say a saddle, didn't you? Won't it be
great to come galloping up the levee, when the leaves are red and the
frost is in the air. Oh am I going fast enough?”
“Much faster than I expected,” said the Harvester. “You are surprising
all of us, me most of any. Ruth, you almost make me hope that you regard
this as home. Honey, you are thinking a little of me these days?”
The hand that had fallen from his hair lay on his shoulder. Now it slid
around his neck, and gripped him with all its strength.
“Heaps and heaps!” she said. “All I get a chance to, for being bothered
and fussed over, and everlastingly read mushy stuff that's intended for
some one else. Please take me to the veranda now; I want to tell you
something.”
His head swam, but the Harvester set his feet firmly, arose, and carried
his Dream Girl back to outdoor life. When he reached the chair, she
begged him to go a few steps farther to the bench on the lake shore.
“I am afraid,” said the man.
“It's so warm. There can't be any difference in the air. Just a minute.”
The Harvester pushed open the screen, went to the bench, and seating
himself, drew the cover closely around her.
“Don't speak a word for a long time,” he said. “Just rest. If I tire you
too much and spoil everything, I will be desperate.”
He clasped her to him, laid his cheek against her hair, and his lips on
her forehead. He held her hand and kissed it over and over, and again
he watched and could find no resentment. The cool, pungent breeze swept
from the lake, and the voices of wild life chattered at their feet.
Sometimes the water folks splashed, while a big black and gold butterfly
mistook the Girl's dark hair for a perching place and settled on it,
slowly opening its wonderful wings.
“Lie quietly, Girl,” whispered the Harvester. “You are wearing a living
jewel, an ornament above price, on your hair. Maybe you can see it when
it goes. There!”
“Oh I did!” she cried. “How I love it here! Before long may I lie in the
dining-room window a while so I can see the water. I like the hill, but
I love the lake more.”
“Now if you just would love me,” said the Harvester, “you would have all
Medicine Woods in your heart.”
“Don't hurry me so!” said the Girl. “You gave me a year; and it's only a
few weeks, and I've not been myself, and I'm not now. I mustn't make any
mistake, and all I know for sure is that I want you most, and I can rest
best with you, and I miss you every minute you are gone. I think that
should satisfy you.”
“That would be enough for any reasonable man,” said the Harvester
angrily. “Forgive me, Ruth, I have been cruel. I forgot how frail and
weak you are. It is having Harmon here that makes me unnatural. It
almost drives me to frenzy to know that he may take you from me.”
“Then send him away!”
“SEND HIM AWAY?”
“Yes, send him away! I am tired to death of his poetry, and seeing him
spoon around. Send both of them away quickly!”
The Harvester gulped, blinked, and surreptitiously felt for her pulse.
“Oh, I've not developed fever again,” she said. “I'm all right. But it
must be a fearful expense to have both of them here by the week, and I'm
so tired of them, Granny says she can take care of me just as well,
and the girl who helps her can cook. No one but you shall lift me, if I
don't get my nose Out until I can walk alone Both of them are perfectly
useless, and I'd much rather you'd send them away.”
“There, there! Of course!” said the Harvester soothingly. “I'll do it
as soon as I possibly dare. You don't understand, honey. You are yet
delicate beyond measure, internally. The fever burned so long. Every
morsel you eat is measured and cooked in sterilized vessels, and I'd be
scared of my life to have the girl undertake it.”
“Why she is doing it straight along now! She and Granny! Molly isn't out
of Doctor Harmon's sight long enough to cook anything. Granny says there
is 'a lot of buncombe about what they do, and she is going to tell them
so right to their teeth some of these days, if they badger her much
more,' and I wish she would, and you, too.”
The Harvester gathered the Girl to him in one crushing bear hug.
“For the love of Heaven, Ruth, you drive me crazy! Answer me just one
question. When you told me that you 'adored and worshipped' Doctor
Harmon, did you mean it, or was that the delirium of fever?”
“I don't know WHAT I told you! If I said I 'adored' him, it was the
truth. I did! I do! I always will! So do I adore the Almighty, but
that's no sign I want him to read poetry to me, and be around all the
time when I am wild for a minute with you. I can worship Doctor Harmon
in Chicago or Onabasha quite as well. Fire him! If you don't, I will!”
“Good Lord!” cried the Harvester, helpless until the Girl had to cling
to him to prevent rolling from his nerveless arms. “Ruth, Ruth, will you
feel my pulse?”
“No, I won't! But you are going to drop me. Take me straight back to my
beautiful new bed, and send them away.”
“A minute! Give me a minute!” gasped the Harvester. “I couldn't lift a
baby just now. Ruth, dear, I thought you LOVED the man.”
“What made you think so?”
“You did!”
“I didn't either! I never said I loved him. I said I was under
obligations to him; but they are as well repaid as they ever can be. I
said I adored him, and I tell you I do! Give him what we owe him, both
of us, in money, and send them away. If you'd seen as much of them as I
have, you'd be tired of them, too. Please, please, David!”
“Yes,” said the Harvester, arising in a sudden tide of effulgent joy.
“Yes, Girl, just as quickly as I can with decency. I----I'll send them
on the lake, and I'll take care of you.”
“You won't read poetry to me?”
“I will not.”
“You won't moon at me?”
“No!”
“Then hurry! But have them take your boat. I am going to have the first
ride in mine.”
“Indeed you are, and soon, too!” said the Harvester, marching up the
hill as if he were leading hosts to battle.
He laid the Girl on the bed and covered her, and called Granny Moreland
to sit beside her a few minutes. He went into the gold garden and
proposed that the doctor and the nurse go rowing until supper time, and
they went with alacrity. When they started he returned to the Girl and,
sitting beside her, he told Granny to take a nap. Then he began to talk
softly all about wild music, and how it was made, and what the different
odours sweeping down the hill were, and when the red leaves would come,
and the nuts rattle down, and the frost fairies enamel the windows, and
soon she was sound asleep. Granny came back, and the Harvester walked
around the lake shore to be alone a while and think quietly, for he was
almost too dazed and bewildered for full realization.
As he softly followed the foot path he heard voices, and looking down,
he saw the boat lying in the shade and beneath a big tree on the bank
sat the doctor and the nurse. His arm was around her, and her head was
on his shoulder; and she said very distinctly, “How long will it be
until we can go without offending him?”