"I don't mind in the least. In fact, I'd rather enjoy it. I'd be so
happy if you would come now and tell me how this appears to you,
for it's all yours. I'd have enlarged the store-room, dry-houses and
laboratory for myself, but this cabin, never! The old one suited me as
it was; but for you----I should have a better home."

The Harvester glanced from the shining skeleton to the bridge of gold
and back again.

"Where are you to-night?" he questioned. "What are you doing? Can't you
give me a hint of where to search for you when this is ready? I don't
know but I am beginning wrong. My little brothers of the wood do
differently. They announce their intentions the first thing, flaunt
their attractions, and display their strength. They say aloud, for all
the listening world to hear, what is in their hearts. They chip, chirp,
and sing, warble, whistle, thrill, scream, and hoot it. They are strong
on self-expression, and appreciative of their appearance. They meet,
court, mate, and THEN build their home together after a mutual plan.
It's a good way, too! Lots surer of getting things satisfactory."

The Harvester sat on a lumber pile and gazed questioningly at the
framework.

"I wish I knew if I am going at things right," he said. "There are two
sides to consider. If she is in a good home, and lovingly cared for, it
would be proper to court her and get her promise, if I could----no I'm
blest if I'll be so modest----get her promise, as I said, and let her
wait while I build the cabin. But if she should be poor, tired, and
neglected, then I ought to have this ready when I find her, so I could
pick her up and bring her to it, with no more ceremony than the birds."

The Harvester's clear skin flushed crimson.

"Of course, I don't mean no wedding ceremony," he amended. "I was
thinking of a long time wasted in preliminaries when in my soul I know I
am going to marry my Dream Girl before I ever have seen her in reality.
What would be the use in spending much time in courting? She is my wife
now, by every law of God. Let me get a glimpse of her, and I'll prove
it. But I've got to make tracks, for if she were here, where would I put
her? I must hurry!"

He went to the work room and began polishing a table top. He had bought
a chest of tools and was spending every spare minute on tables,
chair seats, and legs. He had decided to make these first and carve
candlesticks later when he had more time. Two hours he worked at the
furnit