nst the screen, in a voice soft and low he
told her in a steady stream, as he swayed her back and forth, what each
sound of the night was, and how and why it was made all the way from the
rumbling buzz of the June bug to the screech of the owl and the splash
of the bass in the lake. All of it, as it appealed to him, was the story
of steady evolution, the natural processes of reproduction, the joy of
life and its battles, and the conquest of the strong in nature. At his
hands every sound was stripped of terror. The leaping bass was exulting
in life, the screeching owl was telling its mate it had found a fat
mouse for the children, the nighthawk was courting, the big bull frogs
booming around the lake were serenading the moon. There was not a thing
to fear or a voice left with an unsympathetic note in it. She was half
asleep when at last he helped her to her room, set a pitcher of frosty,
clinking drink on her table, locked her door and window screens inside,
spread Belshazzar's blanket on her porch, and set his door wide open,
that he might hear if she called, and then said good night and went back
to his memorandum book.

"No bad beginning," he muttered softly, "no bad beginning, but I'd
almost give my right hand if she hadn't forgotten----"

In her room the exhausted Girl slipped the pins from her hair and sank
on the low chair before the dressing-table. She picked up the shining,
silver backed brush and stared at the monogram, R. F. L, entwined on it.

"My soul!" she exclaimed. "WAS HE SO SURE AS THAT? Was there ever any
other man like him?"

She dropped the brush and with tired hands pushed back the heavy braids.
Then she arose and going to the chest of drawers began lifting lids to
find a night robe. As she searched the boxes she found every dainty,
pretty undergarment a girl ever used and at last the robes. She shook
out a long white one, slipped into it, and walked to the bed. That stood
as he had arranged it, white, clean, and dainty.

"Everything for me!" she said softly. "Everything for me! Shall there be
nothing for him? Oh he makes it easy, easy!"

She stepped to the closet, picked down a lavender silk kimona and
drawing it over her gown she gathered it around her and opening
the bathroom door, she stepped into a little hall leading to the
dining-room. As she entered the living-room the Harvester bent over his
book. Her step was very close when he heard it and turned his head. In
an instant she touched