“Ruth!”
“Jove! That is a beautiful name. Ruth Langston. It will go well, won't it?”
“Music that the birds, insects, Singing Water, the trees, and the breeze can't ever equal. I'm holding on with all my might, but it's tough, Doc. She's in such a dreadful place and position, and she needs so much. She is sick. Can't you give me a prescription for each of them?”
“You just bet I can,” said the doctor, “if you can engineer their taking them.”
“I suppose you'd hold their noses and pour stuff down them.”
“I would if necessary.”
“Well, it is.”
“All right——I'll fix something, and you see that they use it.”
“I can try,” said the Harvester.
“Try! Pah! You aren't half a man!”