teady stream the
Harvester was pouring out his song. If he had listened an instant longer
he would have recognized that the tone and the words had changed. Now it
was, "Gently, breathe gently, Girl! Slowly, steadily, easily! Deeper, a
little deeper, Ruth! Brave Girl, never another so wonderful! That's my
Dream Girl coming from the shadows, coming to life's sunshine, coming to
hope, coming to love! Deeper, just a little deeper! Smoothly and evenly!
You are making it, Girl! You are making it! By all that is holy and
glorious! Stick to it, Ruth, hold tight to me! I'll help you, dear! You
are coming, coming back to life and love. Don't worry yourself trying
too hard, if only you can send every breath as deeply as the last one,
you can make it. You brave girl! You wonderful Dream Girl! Ah, Ruth, the
name of this is victory!"

An hour before Doctor Carey had said to Doctor Harmon and the nurse,
as he softly closed the door: "It is over and the Harvester is raving.
We'll give him a little more time and see if he won't realize it
himself. That will be easier for him than for us to try to tell him."

Now he opened the door, stared a second, and coming to the opposite side
of the bed, he leaned over the Girl. Then he felt her feet. They were
warm and slightly damp. A surprised look crept over his face. He gently
reached for a hand that the Harvester yielded to him. It was warm,
the blue tips becoming rosy, the wrist pulse discernible. Then he bent
closer, touched her face, and saw the tremulous eyelids. He turned back
the cover, and held his ear over her heart. When he straightened, "As
God lives, she's got a chance, David!" he exulted in an awed whisper.

The Harvester lifted a graven face, down which the sweat of agony
rolled, and his lips parted in a twitching smile. "Then this is where
love beats the doctors, Carey!" he said.

"It is where love has ventured what science dares not. Love didn't do
all of this. In the name of the Almighty, what did you give her, David?"

"Life!" cried the Harvester. "Life! Come on, Ruth, come on! Out of the
valley come to me! You are well now, Girl! It's all over! The last trace
of fever is gone, the last of the dull ache. Can you swallow just two
more drops of bottled sunshine, Ruth?"

The flickering lids slowly opened, and the big black eyes looked
straight into the Harvester's. He met them steadily, smiling
encouragement.

"Hang on to each breath, dear heart!" he urged. "The fever is g