“Your work?” Mr. Alexander Herron touched the lilies with his walking stick.
The Harvester assented.
“Do you mind if I carry one to Marcella?”
The Harvester trembled as he stooped to select the largest and whitest, and with sudden illumination, he fully understood. He helped the tottering old man to the cabin, where he sat silently before the fireplace softly touching the lily face with his lips.
“I have put grandmother in my bed, tucked her in warmly, and she says it is soft and fine,” laughed the Girl, coming to them. “Now you go before she falls asleep, and I hope you will rest well.”
She bent and kissed him.
The Harvester held the door.
“Can I be of any service?” he inquired.
“No, I'm no helpless child.”
“Then to my best wishes for sound sleep the remainder of the night, I will add this,” said the Harvester——“You may rest in peace concerning your dear girl. I sympathize with your anxiety. Good night!”