lvation' to hold you as I am for an hour, and you know it."

"It's going to be much longer than that," said the Girl nestling to him.
"I asked for you because you never hurt me, and they always do. I knew
you were so strong that my weight now wouldn't be a load for one of your
hands, and I am not going back to that bed until I am so tired that I
will be glad to lie down."

For a long time she was so silent the Harvester thought her going to
sleep; and having learned that for him joy was probably transient, he
deliberately got all he could. He closely held the hand she had not
withdrawn, and often lifted it to his lips. Sometimes he stroked the
heavy braid, gently ran his hands across the tired shoulders, or eased
her into a different position. There was not a doubt in his mind of one
thing. He was having a royal, good time, and he was thankful for the
work he had set his assistants that kept them out of the room. They
seemed in no hurry, and from scuffling, laughing, and a steady stream of
talk, they were entertained at least. At last the Girl roused.

"There is something I want to ask you," she said. "I promised Doctor
Harmon I would."

Instantly the heart of the Harvester gave a leap that jarred the head
resting on it.

"You don't like him?" questioned the Girl.

"I do!" declared the Harvester. "I like him immensely. There is not a
fine, manly good-looking feature about him that I have missed. I don't
fail to do him justice on every point."

"I'm so glad! Then you will want him to remain."

"Here?" asked the Harvester with a light, hot breath.

"In Onabasha! Doctor Carey has offered him the place of chief assistant
at the hospital. There is a good salary and the chance of taking up
the doctor's work as he grows older. It means plenty to do at once,
healthful atmosphere, congenial society----everything to a young man.
He only had a call once in a while in Chicago, often among people who
received more than they paid, like me, and he was very lonely. I think
it would be great for him."

"And for you, Ruth?"

"It doesn't make the least difference to me; but for his sake, because I
think so much of him, I would like to see him have the place."

"You still think so much of him, Ruth?"

"More, if possible," said the Girl. "Added to all I owed him before, he
has come here and worked for days to save me, and it wasn't his fault
that it took a bigger man. Nothing alters the fact that he did all he
could, most gr