and opening the
little cupboard, took out a long toasting fork, and sticking it into a
slice of bread, he held it over the coals. When it grew golden brown he
lifted the table beside the chair, and brought a bowl of scalded milk.

"Marcella, that stuff will be too smoky for you! Your stomach will rebel
at it."

"Grandfather, there will not be a suspicion of odour," said the Girl. "I
have had it that way often."

"Then no wonder you came from this place looking like a picked crane, if
that is a sample of what you were fed on!"

The face of the Harvester grew redder than the heat of the fire
necessitated, but at the ringing laugh of the Girl he set his teeth
and went on toasting bread. Grandmother crumbled some in the milk and
picking up the spoon tested the combination. She was very hungry, and it
was good. She began eating with relish.

"Alexander, you will be the loser if you don't have some of this," she
said. "It's just delicious!"

"Maybe smoked spoon victuals are proper for invalid women," he retorted,
"but they are mighty thin diet for a hardy man."

"What about a couple of eggs and some beef extract?" suggested the cook.

"Sounds more sensible by a long shot."

"Ruth, you make this toast," said the Harvester and disappeared.

Presently he placed before his guest a couple of eggs poached in milk,
a steaming bowl of beef juice, and a plate of toast. For one instant
the Harvester thought this was going into the fire, the next a slice was
picked up and smelled testily. The Girl sat on her grandfather's chair
arm, and breaking a morsel of toast dipped it into the broth and tasted
it.

"Oh but that is good!" she cried. "Why haven't I some also? Am I
supposed to have no 'tummy'?"

"Your turn next," said the Harvester, as he again gave her the fork and
went to the kitchen.

When he returned and served the Girl he found her grandfather eating
heartily.

"Why I think this is fun," said the gentle lady. "I haven't had such a
fine time in ages. I love the heat of the flame on my body and things
taste so good. I could go to sleep without any narcotic, right now."

Close her knee the Harvester knelt on the hearth with his toasting fork.
She leaned forward and ran her fingers through his hair.

"You're a braw laddie," she said. "Now I see why Ruthie WOULD come."

The Harvester took the frail hand and kissed it. "Thank you!" he
returned.

"Mush!" exploded the grizzled man in the rear.

When no one wanted