“Then I am really ill?”
“No. You only have the germs of illness in your blood, and if you will help me that much we can eliminate them; and then it is you for housekeeper, with first assistant in me, the drawing tools, paint box, and all the woods for subjects. So, as I was going to tell you, Belshazzar and I have played our game for the last time. That decision was ultimate. Here I will work, live, and die. Here, please God, strong and happy, you shall live with me. Ruth, you have got to recover quickly. You will consult the doctor?”
“Yes, and I wish he would hurry,” said the Girl. “He can't make me new too soon to suit me. If I had a strong body, oh Man, I just feel as if you could find a soul somewhere in it that would respond to all these wonders you have brought me among. Oh! make me well, and I'll try as woman never did before to bring you happiness to pay for it.”
“Careful now,” warned the Harvester. “There is to be no talk of obligations between you and me. Your presence here and your growing trust in me are all I ask at the hands of fate at present. Long ago I learned to 'labour and to wait.' By the way——here's my most difficult labour and my longest wait. This is the precious gingseng bed.”
“How pretty!” exclaimed the Girl.
Covering acres of wood floor, among the big trees, stretched the lacy green carpet. On slender, upright stalks waved three large leaves, each made up of five stemmed, ovate little leaves, round at the base, sharply pointed at the tip. A cluster of from ten to twenty small green berries, that would turn red later, arose above. The Harvester lifted a plant to show the Girl that the Chinese name, Jin-chen, meaning man-like, originated because the divided root resembled legs. Away through the woods stretched the big bed, the growth waving lightly in the wind, the peculiar odour filling the air.
“I am going to wait to gather the crop until the seeds are ripe,” said the Harvester, “then bury some as I dig a root. My father said that was the way of the Indians. It's a mighty good plan. The seeds are delicate, and difficult to gather and preserve properly. Instead of collecting and selling all of them to start rivals in the business, I shall replant my beds. I must find a half dozen assistants to harvest this crop in that way, and it will be difficult, because it will come when my neighbours are busy with corn.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“Not with ginseng digging,” laughed the Harvester. “That is not woman's work. You may sit in an especially attractive place and boss the job.”
“Oh dear!” cried the Girl. “Oh dear! I want to get out and walk.”