ggestion, you can get more. Your roots are now
on the trays of an evaporating house. They will dry to the proper degree
desired by the trade, so that they will not lose an extra ounce in
weight, and if I send them with my stuff to big wholesale houses I deal
with, they will be graded with the finest wild ginseng. It is worth more
than the cultivated and you will get closer eight dollars a pound for it
than five. There is some speculation in it, and the market fluctuates:
but, as a rule, I sell for the highest price the drug brings, and, at
times when the season is very dry, I set my own prices. Shall I return
yours or may I cure and sell it, and bring you the money?"

"How much trouble would that make you?"

"None. The work of digging and washing is already finished. All that
remains is to weigh it and make a memorandum of the amount when I sell.
I should very much like to do it. It would be a comfort to see the money
go into your hands. If you are afraid to trust me, I will give you the
names of several people you can ask concerning me the next time you go
to the city."

She looked at him steadily.

"Never mind that," she said. "But why do you offer to do it for a
stranger? It must be some trouble, no matter how small you represent it
to be."

"Perhaps I am going to pay you eight and sell for ten."

"I don't think you can. Five sounds fabulous to me. I can't believe
that. If you wanted to make money you needn't have told me you took it.
I never would have known. That isn't your reason!"

"Possibly I would like to atone for those tears I caused," said the
Harvester.

"Don't think of that! They are of no consequence to any one. You needn't
do anything for me on that account."

"Don't search for a reason," said the Harvester, in his gentlest tones.
"Forget that feature of the case. Say I'm peculiar, and allow me to do
it because it would be a pleasure. In close two weeks I will bring you
the money. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes, if you care to make it."

"I care very much. We will call that settled."

"I wish I could tell you what it will mean to me," said the Girl.

"If you only would," plead the Harvester.

"I must not burden a stranger with my troubles."

"But if it would make the stranger so happy!"

"That isn't possible. I must face life and bear what it brings me
alone."

"Not unless you choose," said the Harvester. "That is, if you will
pardon me, a narrow view of life. It cuts other people out of t