"Do you think, Mr. Pullar," she said diffidently, "that—that I could help you? I have done a little writing. We could get the facts into shape and some editor could put them in form for presentation to the public."
The old man looked at her with eyes in which glowed a grateful wonder.
"You believe my story enough to do that, lassie?"
"Why, of course! It is simply wonderful! Come over to the school each day at noon and we can work at the tale of The Red Knight while the children are playing. An hour a day will accomplish a great deal in a month. Will you come?"
Her companion reflected deeply before replying.
"It is a noble offer," he said gratefully. "But I will think it over. If I decide it is best I will come to-morrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Pullar!" was the pleased reply. "This has been an amazing hour. But I must be going. You will be sure and come?"
Waving good-bye she vanished through the trees.
For a long time the man reflected on the happy interview. At length he returned to the sack of unthreshed wheat. Picking up the flail he held it poised ready while his gaze grew pathetically reminiscent.
"Ah, Kitty," he whispered. "'Tis an angel she is. Our dreams will come true after all, dear heart."