"Ruthie!" cautioned the gentle lady.
"Put that cur out of doors, where animals belong," roared the old man, lifting his stick.
"Careful!" warned the grave voice of the Harvester.
"I thought you said he was gentle as a kitten!"
"Grandfather, I said that," cried the Girl.
"Well wasn't it the truth?"
"You can see how he loves me. Didn't I ever tell you that Bel made the first friendly overture I ever received in this part of the country? He's watched me by the day, even while I slept."
"Then what's all this infernal fuss about?"
"Try striking him if you want to find out," explained the Harvester gently. "You see, Belshazzar and I are accustomed to living here alone and very quietly. He is excited over the Girl's return, because she is his friend, and he has not forgotten her. Then this is the first time in his life he ever heard an irritable voice from a visitor or saw a cane, and it angers him. He is perfectly safe to guard a baby, if he is gently treated, but he is a sure throat hold to a stranger who bespeaks him roughly or attempts to strike. He would be of no use as a guard to valuable property while I sleep if he were otherwise.
Bel, come here! Lie still."
The dog sank to the floor beside the Harvester, but his sharp eyes followed the Girl, and the hair arose on his neck at every rasping note of the old man's voice.
"I wouldn't give such a creature house room for a minute," insisted the guest.
"Wait until you see him work and become acquainted with him, and you will change that verdict," prophesied the Harvester.
"I never was known to change an opinion. Never, sir! Never!" cried the testy voice.
"How unfortunate!" remarked the Harvester suavely.
"Explain yourself! Explain yourself, sir!"
"There never has been, there never will be, a man on this earth," said the Harvester, "wholly free from mistakes. Are you warm now?" He turned to the little lady, cutting off a reply with his question.
"Nice and warm and quite sleepy," she said.
"What may I bring you for a light lunch before you go to bed?"
"Oh, could I have a bite of something?"
"If only I am fortunate enough to have anything you will care for. What about a bowl of hot milk and a slice of toast?"
"Why I think that would be just the thing!"
"Excuse me," said the Harvester rising.
He went to the kitchen and they could hear him moving around.
"I wish the big brute would take his beast along," growled Mr. Alexander Herron.
"Come, Bel," ordered the Girl. "Let's go to the kitchen."
The dog instantly arose and followed her.
"What can I do to help?" she asked as they reached the door.
"Remain where you won't dazzle my eyes," said the Harvester, "until I help the gentle lady and the gentle man to bed."
Presently he came with a white cloth, two spoons, and a plate of bread. He spread the cloth on the table, laid the spoons on it, and opening the little cupboard, took out a long toasting fork, and sticking it into a slice of bread, he held it over the coals. When it grew golden brown he lifted the table beside the chair, and brought a bowl of scalded milk.
"Marcella, that stuff will be too smoky for you!
Your stomach will rebel at it."
"Grandfather, there will not be a suspicion of odour," said the Girl. "I have had it that way often."
"Then no wonder you came from this place looking like a picked crane, if that is a sample of what you were fed on!"
The face of the Harvester grew redder than the heat of the fire necessitated, but at the ringing laugh of the Girl he set his teeth and went on toasting bread. Grandmother crumbled some in the milk and picking up the spoon tested the combination. She was very hungry, and it was good. She began eating with relish.
"Alexander, you will be the loser if you don't have some of this," she said. "It's just delicious!"
"Maybe smoked spoon victuals are proper for invalid women," he retorted, "but they are mighty thin diet for a hardy man."
"What about a couple of eggs and some beef extract?" suggested the cook.
"Sounds more sensible by a long shot."
"Ruth, you make this toast," said the Harvester and disappeared.
Presently he placed before his guest a couple of eggs poached in milk, a steaming bowl of beef juice, and a plate of toast. For one instant the Harvester thought this was going into the fire, the next a slice was picked up and smelled testily. The Girl sat on her grandfather's chair arm, and breaking a morsel of toast dipped it into the broth and tasted it.
"Oh but that is good!" she cried. "Why haven't I some also? Am I supposed to have no `tummy'?"
"Your turn next," said the Harvester, as he again gave her the fork and went to the kitchen.
When he returned and served the Girl he found her grandfather eating heartily.
"Why I think this is fun," said the gentle lady. "Ihaven't had such a fine time in ages. I love the heat of the flame on my body and things taste so good. I could go to sleep without any narcotic, right now."
Close her knee the Harvester knelt on the hearth with his toasting fork. She leaned forward and ran her fingers through his hair.
"You're a braw laddie," she said. "Now I see why Ruthie WOULD come."
The Harvester took the frail hand and kissed it.
"Thank you!" he returned.
"Mush!" exploded the grizzled man in the rear.
When no one wanted more food the Harvester stacked and carried away the dishes, swept the hearth, and replaced the toaster.
"Ruth and I often lunched this way last fall," he said.
"We liked it for a change."
"Alexander, have you noticed?" asked the little woman as she lifted wet eyes to a beautiful portrait of her daughter beside the chimney.
"D'ye think I'm blind? Saw it as I entered the door.
Poor taste! Very! Brown may match the rug and wood-work, but it's a wretched colour for a young girl in her gay time. Should be pink and white with a gold frame."
"That would be beautiful," agreed the Harvester.
"We must have one that way. This is not an expensive picture. It is only an enlargement from an old photograph."
"We have a number of very handsome likenesses.
Which one can you spare Ruth, Marcella?"
"The one she likes best," said the lady promptly.
