"Being as honourable as I can. No man gets any too decent, but there is no law against doing as you would be done by, and being as straight as you know how.
When I've talked to him, I'll know where I am and I'll have something to say to you."
"David, I'm afraid----"
"Then what do you suppose I am?" said the Harvester.
"It's no use, Doc. Be still and take what comes!
The manner in which you meet a crisis proves you a whining cur or a man. I have got lots of respect for a dog, as a dog; but I've none for a man as a dog. If you've gathered from the Girl's delirium that I've made a mistake, I hope you have confidence enough in me to believe I'll right it, and take my punishment without whining. Go away, you make her worse. Easy, Girl, the world is all right and every one is sleeping now, so you should be at rest. With the day the doctor will come, the good doctor you know and like, Ruth. You haven't forgotten your doctor, Ruth? The kind doctor who cared for you. He will make you well, Ruth; well and oh, so happy! Harmon, Harmon, Doctor Harmon is coming to you, Girl, and then you will be so happy!"
"Why you blame idiot!" cried Doctor Carey in a harsh whisper. "Have you lost all the sense you ever had? Stop that gibber! She wants to hear about the birds and Singing Water. Go on with that woods line of talk; she likes that away the best. This stuff is making her restless. See!"
"You mean you are," said the Harvester wearily.
"Please leave us alone. I know the words that will bring comfort. You don't."
He began the story all over again, but now there ran through it a continual refrain. "Your doctor is coming, the good doctor you know. He will make you well and strong, and he will make life so lovely for you."
He was talking without pause or rest when Doctor Carey returned in the afternoon to take his place. He brought Mrs. Carey with him, and she tried a woman's powers of soothing another woman, and almost drove the Girl to fighting frenzy. So the doctor made another attempt, and the Harvester raced down the hill to the city. He went to the car shed as the train pulled in, and stood at one side while the people hurried through the gate. He was watching for a young man with a travelling bag and perhaps a physician's satchel, who would be looking for some one.
"I think I'll know him," muttered the Harvester grimly. "I think the masculine element in me will pop up strongly and instinctively at the sight of this man who will take my Dream Girl from me. Oh good God!
Are You sure You ARE good?"
In his brown khaki trousers and shirt, his head bare, his bronze face limned with agony he made no attempt to conceal, the Harvester, with feet planted firmly, and tightly folded arms, his head tipped slightly to one side, braced himself as he sent his keen gray eyes searching the crowd. Far away he selected his man. He was young, strong, criminally handsome, clean and alert; there was discernible anxiety on his face, and it touched the Harvester's soul that he was coming just as swiftly as he could force his way. As he passed the gates the Harvester reached his side.
"Doctor Harmon, I think," he said.
"Yes."
"This way! If you have luggage, I will send for it later."
The Harvester hurried to the car.
"Take the shortest cut and cover space," he said to the driver. The car kept to the speed limit until toward the suburbs.
Doctor Harmon removed his hat, ran his fingers through dark waving hair and yielded his body to the swing of the car. Neither man attempted to talk.
Once the Harvester leaned forward and told the driver to stop on the bridge, and then sat silently. As the car slowed down, they alighted.
"Drive on and tell Doc we are here, and will be up soon," said the Harvester. Then he turned to the stranger. "Doctor Harmon, there's little time for words.
This is my place, and here I grow herbs for medicinal houses."
"I have heard of you, and heard your stuff recommended," said the doctor.
"Good!" exclaimed the Harvester. "That saves time. I stopped here to make a required explanation to you. The day you sent Ruth Jameson to Onabasha, I saw her leave the train and recognized in her my ideal woman. I lost her in the crowd and it took some time to locate her. I found her about a month ago. She was miserable. If you saw what her father did to her and her mother in Chicago, you should have seen what his brother was doing here. The end came one day in my presence, when I paid her for ginseng she had found to settle her debt to you. He robbed her by force.
I took the money from him, and he threatened her. She was ill then from heat, overwork, wrong food----every misery you can imagine heaped upon the dreadful conditions in which she came. It had been my intention to court and marry her if I possibly could. That day she had nowhere to go; she was wild with fear; the fever that is scorching her now was in her veins then. I did an insane thing. I begged her to marry me at once and come here for rest and protection. I swore that if she would, she should not be my wife, but my honoured guest, until she learned to love me and released me from my vow. She tried to tell me something; I had no idea it was anything that would make any real difference, and I wouldn't listen. Last night, when the fever was beginning to do its worst, she told me of your entrance into her life and what it meant to her. Then I saw that Ihad made a mistake. You were her choice, the man she could love, not me, so I took the liberty of sending for you. I want you to cure her, court her, marry her, and make her happy. God knows she has had her share of suffering. You recognize her as a girl of refinement?"
"I do."
"You grant that in health she would be lovelier than most women, do you not?"
"She was more beautiful than most in sickness and distress."
"Good!" cried the Harvester. "She has been here two weeks. I give you my word, my promise to her has been kept faithfully. As soon as I can leave her to attend to it, she shall have her freedom. That will be easy. Will you marry her?"
The doctor hesitated.
"What is it?" asked the Harvester.
