ke is the work of my hands, and all of the furniture. I hope
you will like it. This is the room of which I've been telling you, Ruth.
Go in and take possession, and I'll entreat God and all His ministering
angels to send you sunshine and joy."

He opened the door, guided her inside, closed it, and went swiftly to
his work.

The Girl stood and looked around her with amazed eyes. The floor was
pale yellow wood, polished until it shone like a table top. The casings,
table, chairs, dressing table, chest of drawers, and bed were solid
curly maple. The doors were big polished slabs of it, each containing
enough material to veneer all the furniture in the room. The walls
were of plaster, tinted yellow, and the windows with yellow shades were
curtained in dainty white. She could hear the Harvester carrying the
load from the wagon to the front porch, the clamour of the barn yard;
and as she went to the north window to see the view, a shining peacock
strutted down the walk and went to the Harvester's hand for grain, while
scores of snow-white doves circled over his head. She stepped on deep
rugs of yellow goat skins, and, glancing at the windows on either side,
she opened the door.

Outside it lay a porch with a railing, but no roof. On each post stood a
box filled with yellow wood-flowers and trailing vines of pale green.
A big tree rising through one corner of the floor supplied the cover. A
gate opened to a walk leading to the driveway, and on either side lay
a patch of sod, outlined by a deep hedge of bright gold. In it saffron,
cone-flowers, black-eyed Susans, golden-rod, wild sunflowers, and jewel
flower grew, and some of it, enough to form a yellow line, was already
in bloom. Around the porch and down the walk were beds of yellow
violets, pixie moss, and every tiny gold flower of the woods. The Girl
leaned against the tree and looked around her and then staggered inside
and dropped on the couch.

"What planning! What work!" she sobbed. "What taste! Why he's a poet!
What wonderful beauty! He's an artist with earth for his canvas, and
growing things for colours."

She lay there staring at the walls, the beautiful wood-work and
furniture, the dressing table with its array of toilet articles, a
low chair before it, and the thick rug for her feet. Over and over she
looked at everything, and then closed her eyes and lay quietly, too
weary and overwhelmed to think. By and by came tapping at the door, and
she sprang up and c