f that bubbling, gurgling little creek!"

"Isn't he wonderful?" asked the Girl, looking up the hill, where the
tall form of the Harvester could be seen moving around. "Just to see
him, you would think him the essence of manly strength and force. And
he is! So strong! Into the lake at all hours, at the dry-house, on the
hill, grubbing roots, lifting big pillars to support a bridge roof,
and with it all a fancy as delicate as any dreaming girl. Doctor, the
fairies paint the flowers, colour the fruit, and frost the windows for
him; and the winds carry pollen to tell him when his growing things are
ready for the dry-house. I don't suppose I can tell you anything new
about him; but isn't he a perpetual surprise? Never like any one else!
And no matter how he startles me in the beginning, he always ends by
convincing me, at least, that he is right."

"I never loved any other man as I do him," said the doctor. "I ushered
him into the world when I was a young man just beginning to practise,
and I've known him ever since. I know few men so scrupulously clean. Try
to get well and make him happy, Mrs. Langston. He so deserves it."

"You may be sure I will," answered the Girl.

After the visitors had gone, the Harvester told her to place the old
blue dishes as she would like to arrange them on her table, so he could
get a correct idea of the size, and he left to put a few finishing
strokes on the bridge cover. She went into the dining-room and opened
the china closet. She knew from her peep in the work-room that there
would be more pieces than she had seen before; but she did not think
or hope that a full half dozen tea set and plates, bowl, platter, and
pitcher would be waiting for her.

"Why Ruth, what made you tire yourself to come down? I intended to
return in a few minutes."

"Oh Man!" cried the laughing Girl, as she clung pantingly to a bridge
pillar for support, "I just had to come to tell you. There are fairies!
Really truly ones! They have found the remainder of the willow dishes
for me, and now there are so many it isn't going to be a table at all.
It must be a little cupboard especially for them, in that space between
the mantel and the bookcase. There should be a shining brass tea
canister, and a wafer box like the arts people make, and I'll pour tea
and tend the chafing dish and you can toast the bread with a long fork
over the coals, and we will have suppers on the living-room table, and
it will be such fun."