ines, with flowers and berries around them, and put a
trailed luna on one, and what is the next prettiest for the other? I'll
think well before if decide. Maybe she'll come by the time I get to
carving and tell me what she likes. That would beat my taste or guessing
a mile."

He carefully arranged the twigs bearing cocoons in a big, wire-covered
box to protect them from the depredations of nibbling mice and the
bolder attacks of the saucy ground squirrels that stored nuts in his
loft and took possession of the attic until their scampering sometimes
awoke him in the night.

Every trip he made to the city he stopped at the library to examine
plans of buildings and furniture and to make notes. The oak he had
hauled was being hewed into shape by a neighbour who knew how, and every
wagon that carried a log to the city to be dressed at the mill brought
back timber for side walls, joists, and rafters. Night after night he
sat late poring over his plans for the new rooms, above all for her
chamber. With poised pencil he wavered over where to put the closet and
entrance to her bath. He figured on how wide to make her bed and where
it should stand. He remembered her dressing table in placing windows
and a space for a chest of drawers. In fact there was nothing the active
mind of the Harvester did not busy itself with in those days that might
make a woman a comfortable home. Every thought emanated from impulses
evolved in his life in the woods, and each was executed with mighty
tenderness.

A killdeer sweeping the lake close two o'clock one morning awakened him.
He had planned to close the sugar camp for the season that day, but when
he heard the notes of the loved bird he wondered if that would not be a
good time to stake out the foundations and begin digging. There was yet
ice in the ground, but the hillside was rapidly thawing, and although
the work would be easier later, so eager was the Harvester to have walls
up and a roof over that he decided to commence.

But when morning came and he and Belshazzar breakfasted and fed Betsy
and the stock, he concluded to return to his first plan and close the
camp. All the sap collected that day went into the vinegar barrel. He
loaded the kettles, buckets, and spiles and stopped at the spice thicket
to cut a bale of twigs as he passed. He carried one load to the wagon
and returned for another. Down wind on swift wing came a bird and
entered the bushes. Motionless the Harvester peered a