e some day, for I love her past all expression, and for all she
feels I might as well save my breath. But she has got to awake some day,
Bel. She can make up her mind to that. She can't see 'why.' Over and
over! I wonder what she would think if I'd up and tell her 'why' with no
frills. She will drive me to it some day, then probably the shock will
finish her. I wonder if Doc was only fooling or if he really would do
what he said. It might wake her up, anyway, but I'm dubious as to the
result. How Uncle Henry can roar! He sounded like a fog horn. I'd love
to try my muscle on a man like that. No wonder she is afraid of him, if
she is of me. Afraid! Well of all things I ever did expect, Belshazzar,
that is the limit."

CHAPTER X. THE CHIME OF THE BLUE BELLS

The Harvester finished his evening work and went to examine the cocoons.
Many of the moths had emerged and flown, but the luna cases remained
in the bottom of the box. As he stood looking at them one moved and he
smiled.

"I'd give something if you would come out and be ready to work on by
to-morrow afternoon," he said. "Possibly you would so interest her that
she would forget her fear of me. I'd like mighty well to take you
along, because she might care for you, and I do need the pattern for my
candlestick. Believe I'll lay you in a warmer place."

The first thing the next morning the Harvester looked and found the open
cocoon and the wet moth clinging by its feet to a twig he had placed for
it.

"Luck is with me!" he exulted. "I'll carry you to her and be mighty
careful what I say, and maybe she will forget about the fear."

All the forenoon he cut and spread boneset, saffron, and hemlock on the
trays to dry. At noon he put on a fresh outfit, ate a hasty lunch, and
drove to Onabasha. He carried the moth in a box, and as he started he
picked up a rake. He went to an art store and bought the pencils and
paper she had ordered. He wanted to purchase everything he saw for her,
but he was fast learning a lesson of deep caution. If he took more than
she ordered, she would worry over paying, and if he refused to
accept money, she would put that everlasting "why" at him again. The
water-colour paper and paint he could not forego. He could make a desire
to have the moth coloured explain those, he thought.

Then he went to a furniture store and bought several articles, and
forgetting his law against haste, he drove Betsy full speed to the
river. He was rather heavil