The Harvester obeyed. He was freshly and carefully shaven. His hair was closely cropped at the base of the head, long, heavy, and slightly waving on top. He wore a white silk shirt, with a rolling collar and tie, white trousers, belt, hose, and shoes, and his hands were manicured with care.
“Have I made a mess of it, or do I appear anything like other men?” he asked, eagerly.
The Girl lifted her eyes to Doctor Harmon and smiled.
“Do you observe anything messy?” she inquired.
“You needn't fish for compliments quite so obviously,” he answered. “I'll pay them without being asked. I do not. He is quite correct, and infinitely better looking than the average. Distinguished is a proper word for the gentleman in my opinion. But why, in Heaven's name, have we never had the pleasure of seeing you thus before?”
“Look here, Doc,” said the Harvester, “do you mean that you enjoy looking at me merely because I am dressed this way?”
“I do indeed,” said the doctor. “It is good to see you with the garb of work laid aside, and the stamp of cleanliness and ease upon you.”
“By gum, that is rubbing it in a little too rough!” cried the Harvester. “I bathe oftener than you do. My clothing is always clean when I start out. Of course, in my work I come hourly in contact with muck, water, and herb juices.”
“It's understood that is unavoidable,” said Doctor Harmon.
“And if cleanliness is made an issue, I'd rather roll in any of it than put my finger tips into the daily work of a surgeon,” added the Harvester, and the Girl giggled.