wish I
could! How could I explain where I got it and I wonder if she would take
it."

"Give it to her without any explanation," said the Harvester. "Tell her
it will make her stronger and she must use it. Tell me exactly how she
is, and I will fix up some harmless remedies that may help, and can do
no harm."

"She simply has been neglected, overworked, and abused until she has
lain down, turned her face to the wall, and given up hope. I think it is
too late. I think the end will come soon. But I wish you would try. I'll
gladly pay----"

"Don't!" said the Harvester. "Not for things that grow in the woods and
that I prepare. Don't think of money every minute."

"I must," she said with forced restraint. "It is the price of life.
Without it one suffers----horribly----as I know. What other plants do
you gather?"

"Saffron," answered the Harvester. "A beautiful thing! You must see it.
Tall, round stems, lacy, delicate leaves, big heads of bright yellow
bloom, touched with colour so dark it appears black--one of the
loveliest plants that grows. You should see my big bed of it in a week
or two more. It makes a picture."

The words recalled him to the Girl. He turned to study her. He forgot
his commission and chafed at conventions that prevented his doing what
he saw was required so urgently. Fearing she would notice, he gazed away
through the forest and tried to think, to plan.

"You are not making noise enough," she said.

So absorbed was the Harvester he scarcely heard her. In an attempt to
obey he began to whistle softly. A tiny goldfinch in a nest of thistle
down and plant fibre in the branching of a bush ten feet above him stuck
her head over the brim and inquired, "P'tseet?" "Pt'see!" answer the
Harvester. That began the duet. Before the question had been asked and
answered a half dozen times a catbird intruded its voice and hearing a
reply came through the bushes to investigate. A wren followed and became
very saucy. From----one could not see where, came a vireo, and almost at
the same time a chewink had something to say.

Instantly the Harvester answered. Then a blue jay came chattering to
ascertain what all the fuss was about, and the Harvester carried on
a conversation that called up the remainder of the feathered tribe. A
brilliant cardinal came tearing through the thicket, his beady black
eyes snapping, and demanded to know if any one were harming his mate,
brooding under a wild grape leaf in a scrub el