how to go at
it."

Then for two days the Harvester and Belshazzar gathered herbs and spread
them on the drying trays. On the afternoon of the third, close three,
the doctor came to the door.

"Langston," he said, "we have a call for you. We can't keep Ruth quiet
much longer. She is tired. We want to change her bed completely. She
won't allow either of us to lift her. She says we hurt her. Will you
come and try it?"

"You'll have to give me time to dip and rub off and get into clean
clothing," he said. "I've been keeping away, because I was working on
time, and I smell to strangulation of stramonium and saffron."

"Can't give you ten seconds," said the doctor. "Our temper is getting
brittle. We are cross as the proverbial fever patient. If you don't come
at once we will imagine you don't want to, and refuse to be moved at
all."

"Coming!" cried the Harvester, as he plunged his hands in the wash bowl
and soused his face. A second later he appeared on the porch.

"Ruth," he said, "I am steeped in the odours of the dry-house. Can't you
wait until I bathe and dress?"

"No, I can't," said a fretful voice. "I can't endure this bed another
minute."

"Then let Doctor Harmon lift you. He is so fresh and clean."

The Harvester glanced enviously at the shaven face and white trousers
and shirt of the doctor.

"I just hate fresh, clean men. I want to smell herbs. I want to put my
feet in the dirt and my hands in the water."

The Harvester came at a rush. He brought a big easy chair from the
living-room, straightened the cover, and bent above the Girl. He picked
her up lightly, gently, and easing her to his body settled in the chair.
She laid her face on his shoulder, and heaved a deep sigh of content.

"Be careful with my back, Man," she said. "I think my spine is almost
worn through."

"Poor girl," said the Harvester. "That bed should be softer."

"It should not!" contradicted the Girl. "It should be much harder. I'm
tired of soft beds. I want to lie on the earth, with my head on a root;
and I wish it would rain dirt on me. I am bathed threadbare. I want to
be all streaky."

"I understand," said the Harvester. "Harmon, bring me a pad and pencil
a minute, I must write an order for some things I want. Will you call up
town and have them sent out immediately?"

On the pad he wrote: "Telephone Carey to get the highest grade
curled-hair mattress, a new pad, and pillow, and bring them flying in
the car. Call Granny a