ards too?"

Then the Harvester did laugh.

"I imagine the roses you know go into perfumes mostly," he answered.
"They do make medicine of Canadian rock rose and rose bay, laurel, and
willow. I grow the bushes, but they are not what you would consider
roses."

"I wonder now," said the woman studying the Harvester closely, "if you
are not that queer genius I've heard of, who spends his time hunting and
growing stuff in the woods and people call him the Medicine Man."

"I strongly suspect madam, I am that man," said the Harvester.

"Well bless me!" cried she. "I've always wanted to see you and here when
I do, you look just like anybody else. I thought you'd have long hair,
and be wild-eyed and ferocious. And your talk sounds like out of a book.
Well that beats me!"

"Me too!" said the Harvester, lifting his hat. "You don't want any
lilies to-morrow, then?"

"Yes I do. Medicine or no medicine, I've always liked 'em, and I'm going
to keep on liking them. If you can bring me a good-sized bunch after the
weak-kneed----"

"Weak-hearted," corrected the Harvester.

"Well 'weak-hearted,' then; it's all the same thing. If you've got any
left, as I was saying, you can fetch them to me for the smell."

The Harvester laughed all the way down town. There he went to Doctor
Carey's office, examined a directory, and got the names of all the
numbers where he had sold yellow violets. A few questions when the
doctor came in settled all of them, but the flower scheme was better.
Because the yellow were not so plentiful as the white and blue, next day
he added buttercups and cowslips to his store for the dark girls. When
he had rifled his beds for the last time, after three weeks of almost
daily trips to town, and had paid high prices to small boys he set
searching the adjoining woods until no more flowers could be found, he
drove from the outskirts of the city one day toward the hospital, and as
he stopped, down the street came Doctor Carey frantically waving to him.
As the big car slackened, "Come on David, quick! I've seen her!" cried
the doctor.

The Harvester jumped from the wagon, threw the lines to Belshazzar, and
landed in the panting car.

"For Heaven's sake where? Are you sure?"

The car went speeding down the street. A policeman beckoned and cried
after it.

"It won't do any good to get arrested, Doc," cautioned the Harvester.

"Now right along here," panted Doctor Carey. "Watch both sides sharply.
If I stop you