“I guess not! You keep the girl you did court, courted, and you'll have your hands full. How does that appear to you?”
The Harvester opened the pamphlet he carried and held up the drawing of the moth.
The doctor turned to the light.
“Good work!” he cried. “Did she do that?”
“She did. In a little over an hour.”
“Fine! She should have a chance.”
“She is going to. She is going to have all the opportunity that is coming to her.”
“Good for you, David! Any time I can help!”
The Harvester replaced the sketch and went to the wagon; but he left Belshazzar in charge, and visited the largest dry goods store in Onabasha, where he held a conference with the floor walker. When he came out he carried a heaping load of boxes of every size and shape, with a label on each. He drove to Medicine Woods singing and whistling.
“She didn't want me to go, Belshazzar!” he chuckled to the dog. “She was more afraid of a cow than she was of me. I made some headway to-day, old boy. She doesn't seem to have a ray of an idea what I am there for, but she is going to trust me soon now; that is written in the books. Oh I hope she will be there to-morrow, and the luna will be out. Got half a notion to take the case and lay it in the warmest place I can find. But if it comes out and she isn't there, I'll be sorry. Better trust to luck.”