do, I pass the beds on my----on our land, and come down
here and get what is needed. That bush," he indicated with the whip,
"blooms exquisitely in the spring. It is a relative of flowering
dogwood, and the one of its many names I like best is silky cornel.
Isn't that pretty?"

"Yes," she said, "it is beautiful."

"I've planted some for you in a hedge along the driveway so next spring
you can gather all you want. I think you'll like the odour. The bark
brings more than true dogwood. If I get a call from some house that uses
it, I save mine and come down here. Around the edge are hop trees, and
I realize something from them, and also the false and true bitter-sweet
that run riot here. Both of them have pretty leaves, while the berries
of the true hang all winter and the colour is gorgeous. I've set your
hedge closely with them. When it has grown a few months it's going to
furnish flowers in the spring, a million different, wonderful leaves
and berries in the summer, many fruits the birds love in the fall, and
bright berries, queer seed pods, and nuts all winter."

"You planted it for me?"

"Yes. I think it will be beautiful in a season or two; it isn't so bad
now. I hope it will call myriads of birds to keep you company. When
you cross this stretch of road hereafter, don't see fetid water and
straggling bushes and vines; just say to yourself, this helps to fill
orders!"

"I am perfectly tolerant of it now," she said. "You make everything
different. I will come with you and help collect the roots and barks
you want. Which bush did you say relieved the poor souls scorching with
fever?"

The Harvester drew on the lines, Betsy swerved to the edge of the road,
and he leaned and broke a branch.

"This one," he answered. "Buttonbush, because those balls resemble round
buttons. Aren't they peculiar? See how waxy and gracefully cut and set
the leaves are. Go on, Betsy, get us home before night. We appear our
best early in the morning, when the sun tops Medicine Woods and begins
to light us up, and in the evening, just when she drops behind Onabasha
back there, and strikes us with a few level rays. Will you take the
lines until I open this gate?"

She laid the twig in her lap on the white gloves and took the lines.
As the gate swung wide, Betsy walked through and stopped at the usual
place.

"Now my girl," said the Harvester, "cross yourself, lean back, and take
your ease. This side that gate you are at home. From here