nry
Jameson. Instantly the long arm of the Harvester shot out, and in a grip
that could not be broken he caught the man by the back of the neck and
proceeded to dangle him. As he did so he roared with laughter.

"Dear Uncle Henry!" he cried. "How did you feel when you got your letter
from Philadelphia? Wasn't it a crime that an honest man, which same
refers to me, beat you? Didn't you gnash your teeth when you learned
that instead of separating me from my wife I had found her people and
sent her to them myself? Didn't it rend your soul to miss your little
revenge and fail to get the good, fat reward you confidently expected?
Ho! Ho! Thus are lofty souls downcast. I pity you, Henry Jameson, but
not so much that I won't break your back if you meddle in my affairs
again, and I am taking this opportunity to tell you so. Here you go out
of my life, for if you appear in it once more I will finish you like a
copperhead. Understand?"

With a last shake the Harvester dropped him, and went into the express
office, where several men had watched the proceedings.

"Been dipping in your affairs, has he?" asked the expressman.

"Trying it," laughed the Harvester.

"Well he is just moving to Idaho, and you probably won't be bothered
with him any more."

"Good news!" said the Harvester. He felt much relieved as he went back
to Betsy and drove to Medicine Woods.

The Careys had invited him, but he chose to spend Christmas alone. He
had finished breakfast when the telephone bell rang, and the expressman
told him there was a package for him from Philadelphia. The Harvester
mounted Betsy and rode to the city at once. The package was so very
small he slipped it into his pocket, and went to the doctor's to say
Merry Christmas! To Mrs. Carey he gave a pretty lavender silk dress, and
to the doctor a new watch chain. Then he went to the hospital, where
he left with Molly a set of china dishes from the Girl, and a fur-lined
great coat, his gift to Doctor Harmon. He rode home and stabled Betsy,
giving her an extra quart of oats, and going into the house he sat by
the kitchen fire and opened the package.

In a nest of cotton lay a tissue-wrapped velvet box, and inside that, in
a leather pocket case, an ivory miniature of the Girl by an artist who
knew how to reproduce life. It was an exquisite picture, and a face
of wonderful beauty. He looked at it for a long time, and then called
Belshazzar and carried it out to show Ajax. Then he put it