ere jolt and bruises. He stood glaring in the moonlight while
his hat was restored.

"If you run your car to the curve you can back toward the south and turn
easily," said the Harvester to the driver. As the automobile passed them
he offered his arm. "May I show you to the fire? These spring nights are
chilly."

"'Chilly!' Demnition cold is what they are! I'm frozen to the bone! This
will be the end of us both! Dragging people of our age around at this
hour of night. Of all the accursed stubbornness!"

"There are three low steps," said the Harvester, "now a straight stretch
of walk, now two steps; there you are on the level. Here is an easy
chair. It would be better to leave on your coat, until I light the
fire."

He knelt and scratched a match, and almost instantly a flame sprang from
the heap of dry kindling, and began to wrap around the big logs.

"How pretty!" exclaimed a soft voice.

"Kind of a hunting lodge in the wilds, is it?" growled a rough one.
"Marcella, you will take your death here!"

"I'm sure I feel no exposure. Really, Alexander, if I had passed away
every time you have prophesied that I would in the past twenty years
you'd have the largest private cemetery in existence. If you would not
be so pessimistic I could quite enjoy the trip. It's so long since I've
ridden in the cars."

"Of all the abandoned places! And for you to be here, after your years
in bed!"

"But I'm not nearly so tired as I am at home, Alexander, truly."

"Let me help you, grandfather," offered the Girl.

She went to him and took his hat and stick.

"Leave me my cane," he cried. "Any instant that beast may attack some of
us."

The Girl laughed merrily.

"Why grandfather!" she chided, "Bel is the finest dog you ever knew,
he is my best friend here. By the hour he has protected me, and he is
gentle as a kitten. He's crazy over my coming home."

She knelt on the floor, put her arms around the dog's neck, and the
delighted brute quivered with the joy of her caress and the sound of her
loved voice.

"Ruthie!" cautioned the gentle lady.

"Put that cur out of doors, where animals belong," roared the old man,
lifting his stick.

"Careful!" warned the grave voice of the Harvester.

"I thought you said he was gentle as a kitten!"

"Grandfather, I said that," cried the Girl.

"Well wasn't it the truth?"

"You can see how he loves me. Didn't I ever tell you that Bel made the
first friendly overture I ever received in