“In the express car,” said the Girl.
“Where did you go when you left the train shed?”
“Straight to the baggage room, where Uncle Henry was waiting. Men brought and put her in his wagon, and he drove with me to the place and other men lowered her, and that was all.”
“You poor Girl!” cried the Harvester. “This time to-morrow night she shall sleep in luxury under this oak, so help me God! Ruth, can you spare me? May I go at once? I can't rest, myself.”
“You will?” cried the Girl. “You will?”
She was laughing in the moonlight. “Oh Man, I can't ever, ever tell you!”
“Don't try,” said the Harvester. “Call it settled. I will start early in the morning. I know that little cemetery. The man whose land it is on can point me the spot. She is probably the last one laid there. Come now, Ruth. Go to the room I made for you, and sleep deeply and in peace. Will you try to rest?”
“Oh David!” she exulted. “Only think! Here where it's clean and cool; beside the lake, where leaves fall gently and I can come and sit close to her and bring flowers; and she never will be alone, for your dear mother is here. Oh David!”
“It is better. I can't thank you enough for thinking of it. Come now, let me help you.”
He half carried her down the hill. Then he made the cabin a glamour of light by putting candles in the sticks he had carved and placing them everywhere.