fied eyes, for this was
not the master he had known of late. He did not recognize the dress or
the manner, but his dog heart was sympathetic to the man's every mood,
and he remembered times when a drive down the levee always had been like
this, for to-night the Harvester's tongue was loosened and he talked in
the old way.

"Just four words, Bel," he said. "And, as I remarked before, they may
mean the most wonderful thing on earth, and possibly nothing at all.
But it is in the heart of man to hope, Bel, and so we are going to live
royally for a week or two, just on hope, old boy. If anything should
happen, we are ready, rooms shining, beds fresh, fireplaces filled and
waiting a match, ice chest cool, and when we get back it will be stored.
Also a secret, Bel; we are going to a florist and a fruit store. While
we are at it, we will do the thing right; but we will stay away from
Doc, until we are sure of something. He means well, but we don't like
to be pitied, do we, Bel? Our friends don't manage their eyes and voices
very well these days. Never mind! Our time will come yet. The bluebird
will not fail us, but never before has it been so late."

On his return he filled the pantry shelves with packages, stored the
ice chest, and set a basket of delicious fruit on the dining table. Two
boxes remained. He opened the larger one and took from it an arm load of
white lilies that he carried up the hill and divided between the mounds
under the oak. Then he uncovered his head, and standing at the foot of
them he looked among the boughs of the big tree and listened intently.
After a time a soft, warm wind, catkin-scented, crept from the lake,
and began a murmur among the clusters of brown leaves clinging to the
branches.

"Mother," said the Harvester, "were you with me? Did I do it right? Did
I tell them what you would have had me say for the boys? Are you glad
now you held me to the narrow way? Do you want me to go before men if
I am asked, as Doc says I will be, and tell them that the only way to
abolish pain is for them to begin at the foundation by living clean
lives? I don't know if I did any good, but they listened to me. Anyway,
I did the best I knew. But that isn't strange; you ground it into me to
do that every day, until it is almost an instinct. Mother, dear, can you
tell me about the bluebird? Is that softest little rustle of all your
voice? and does it say 'hope'? I think so, and I thank you for the
word."

The man