"I thought," said the Harvester patiently, "that your uncle might have turned in some of his cattle, or if pigs came here the dog could chase them away."
She looked at him with utter panic in her face.
"I am far more afraid of a cow than a snake!" she cried. "It is so much bigger!"
"How did you ever come into these woods alone far enough to find the ginseng?" asked the Harvester.
"Answer me that!"
"I wore Uncle Henry's top boots and carried a rake, and I suffered tortures," she replied.
"But you hunted until you found what you wanted, and came again to keep watch on it?"
"I was driven--simply forced. There's no use to discuss it!"
"Well thank the Lord for one thing," said the Harvester. "You didn't appear half so terrified at the sight of me as you did at the mere mention of a cow. I have risen inestimably in my own self-respect. Belshazzar, you may pursue the elusive chipmunk. I am going to guard this woman myself, and please, kind fates, send a ferocious cow this way, in order that I may prove my valour."
The Girl's face flushed slightly, and she could not restrain a laugh. That was all the Harvester hoped for and more. He went beyond the edge of the rug and sat on the leaves under a tree. She bent over her work and only bird and insect notes and occasionally Belshazzar's excited bark broke the silence. The Harvester stretched on the ground, his eyes feasting on the Girl.
Intensely he watched every movement. If a squirrel barked she gave a nervous start, so precipitate it seemed as if it must hurt. If a windfall came rattling down she appeared ready to fly in headlong terror in any direction. At last she dropped her pencil and looked at him helplessly.
"What is it?" he asked.
"The silence and these awful crashes when one doesn't know what is coming," she said.
"Will it bother you if I talk? Perhaps the sound of my voice will help?"
"I am accustomed to working when people talk, and it will be a comfort. I may be able to follow you, and that will prevent me from thinking. There are dreadful things in my mind when they are not driven out. Please talk!
Tell me about the herbs you gathered this morning."
The Harvester gave the Girl one long look as she bent over her work. He was vividly conscious of the graceful curves of her little figure, the coil of dark, silky hair, softly waving around her temples and neck, and when her eyes turned in his direction he knew that it was only the white, drawn face that restrained him. He was almost forced to tell her how he loved and longed for her; about the home he had prepared; of a thousand personal interests. Instead, he took a firm grip and said casually, "Foxglove harvest is over. This plant has to be taken when the leaves are in second year growth and at bloom time. I have stripped my mullein beds of both leaves and flowers. I finished a week ago. Beyond lies a stretch of Parnassus grass that made me think of you, it was so white and delicate. I want you to see it. It will be lovely in a few weeks more."
"You never had seen me a week ago."
"Oh hadn't I?" said the Harvester. "Well maybe I dreamed about you then. I am a great dreamer.
Once I had a dream that may interest you some day, after you've overcome your fear of me. Now this bed of which I was speaking is a picture in September. You must arrange to drive home with me and see it then."
"For what do you sell foxglove and mullein?"
"Foxglove for heart trouble, and mullein for catarrh.
I get ten cents a pound for foxglove leaves and five for mullein and from seventy-five to a dollar for flowers of the latter, depending on how well I preserve the colour in drying them. They must be sealed in bottles and handled with extreme care."
"Then if I wasn't too childish to be out picking them, I could be earning seventy-five cents a pound for mullein blooms?"
"Yes," said the Harvester, "but until you learned the trick of stripping them rapidly you scarcely could gather what would weigh two pounds a day, when dried. Not to mention the fact that you would have to stand and work mostly in hot sunshine, because mullein likes open roads and fields and sunny hills. Now you can sit securely in the shade, and in two hours you can make me a pattern of that moth, for which I would pay a designer of the arts and crafts shop five dollars, so of course you shall have the same."
"Oh no!" she cried in swift panic. "You were charged too much! It isn't worth a dollar, even!"
"On the contrary the candlestick on which I shall use it will be invaluable when I finish it, and five is very little for the cream of my design. I paid just right. You can earn the same for all you can do. If you can embroider linen, they pay good prices for that, too and wood carving, metal work, or leather things.
May I see how you are coming on?"
"Please do," she said.
The Harvester sprang up and looked over the Girl's shoulder. He could not suppress an exclamation of delight.
"Perfect!" he cried. "You can surpass their best drafting at the shop! Your fortune is made. Any time you want to go to Onabasha you can make enough to pay your board, dress you well, and save something every week. You must leave here as soon as you can manage it. When can you go?"
"I don't know," she said wearily. "I'd hate to tell you how full of aches I am. I could not work much just now, if I had the best opportunities in the world. Imust grow stronger."
"You should not work at anything until you are well," he said. "It is a crime against nature to drive yourself.
Why will you not allow----"
"Do you really think, with a little practice, I can draw designs that will sell?"
The Harvester picked up the sheet. The work was delicate and exact. He could see no way to improve it.
"You know it will sell," he said gently, "because you already have sold such work."
"But not for the prices you offer."
"The prices I name are going to be for NEW, ORIGINALDESIGNS. I've got a thousand in my head, that old Mother Nature shows me in the woods and on the water every day."
"But those are yours; I can't take them."
