“But you must not!” she cried. “I can't walk. I wouldn't soil these beautiful shoes for anything.”
“Why don't you change them?” inquired the Harvester.
“I am afraid I forgot everything I had,” said the Girl.
“There are shoes somewhere in this load. I thought of them in getting other things for you, but I had no idea as to size, and so I told that clerk to-day when she got your measure to put in every kind you'd need.”
“You are horribly extravagant,” she said. “But if you have them here, perhaps I could use one pair.”
The Harvester mounted the wagon and hunted until he found a large box, and opening it on the bench he disclosed almost every variety of shoe, walking shoe and slipper, a girl ever owned, as well as sandals and high overshoes.
“For pity sake!” cried the Girl. “Cover that box! You frighten me. You'll never get them paid for. You must take them straight back.”
“Never take anything back,” said the Harvester. “'Be sure you are right, then go ahead,' is my motto. Now I know these are your correct size and that for differing occasions you will want just such shoes as other girls have, and here they are. Simple as life! I think these will serve because they are for street wear, yet they are white inside.”
He produced a pair of canvas walking shoes and kneeling before her held out his hand.
When he had finished, he loaded the box on the wagon, gave the hitching strap to Belshazzar, and told him to lead Betsy to the cabin and hold her until he came. Then he turned to the Girl.