their winter clothing, what they would read,
and how they would work together at the drawings.

"I am almost too anxious to wait longer to get back to my carving," he
said. "Whoever would have thought this spring that fall would come
and find the birds talking of going, the caterpillars spinning winter
quarters, the animals holing up, me getting ready for the cold, and your
candlesticks not finished. Winter is when you really need them. Then
there is solid cheer in numbers of candles and a roaring wood fire. The
furnace is going to be a good thing to keep the floors and the bathroom
warm, but an open fire of dry, crackling wood is the only rational
source of heat in a home. You must watch for the fairy dances on the
backwall, Ruth, and learn to trace goblin faces in the coals. Sometimes
there is a panorama of temples and trees, and you will find exquisite
colour in the smoke. Dry maple makes a lovely lavender, soft and fine as
a floating veil, and damp elm makes a blue, and hickory red and yellow.
I almost can tell which wood is burning after the bark is gone, by the
smoke and flame colour. When the little red fire fairies come out and
dance on the backwall it is fun to figure what they are celebrating. By
the way, Ruth, I have been a lamb for days. I hope you have observed!
But I would sleep a little sounder to-night if you only could give me a
hint whether that kiss is coming on at all."

He tipped back his head to see her face, and it was glorious in the red
firelight; the big eyes never appeared so deep and dark. The tilted head
struck her hand, and her fingers ran through his hair.

"You said to forget it," she reminded him, "and then it would come
sooner."

"Which same translated means that it is not here yet. Well, I didn't
expect it, so I am not disappointed; but begorry, I do wish it would
materialize by Christmas. I think I will work for that. Wouldn't it make
a day worth while, though? By the way, what do you want for Christmas,
Ruth?"

"A doll," she answered.

The Harvester laughed. He tipped his head again to see her face and
suddenly grew quiet, for it was very serious.

"I am quite in earnest," she said. "I think the big dolls in the stores
are beautiful, and I never owned only a teeny little one. All my life
I've wanted a big doll as badly as I ever longed for anything that was
not absolutely necessary to keep me alive. In fact, a doll is essential
to a happy childhood. The mother instinct is so