You know she worries about the foundations. She can't understand what supports Heaven. But up there in Medicine Woods the old dear gets so close her God that some day she is going to realize that her idea of Heaven there is quite as near right as marble streets and gold pillars and vastly more probable. The day I reach that hill top again, Heaven begins for me.
Do you know the wonderful thing the Harvester did up there?"
"Under the oak?"
"Yes."
"Carey told me. It was marvellous."
"Not such a marvel as another the doctor couldn't have known. The Harvester made passing out so natural, so easy, so a part of elemental forces, that I almost have forgotten her tortured body. When I think of her now, it is to wonder if next summer I can distinguish her whisper among the leaves. Before you go, I'll take you up there and tell you what he says, and show you what he means, and you will feel it also."
"What if I shouldn't go?"
"What do you mean?"
"Doctor Carey has offered me a splendid position in his hospital. There would be work all day, instead of waiting all day in the hope of working an hour. There would be a living in it for two from the word go. There would be better air, longer life, more to be got out of it, and if I can make good, Carey's work to take up as he grows old."
"Take it! Take it quickly!" cried the Girl. "Don't wait a minute! You might wear out your heart in Chicago for twenty years or forever, and not have an opportunity to do one half so much good. Take it at once!"
"I was waiting to learn what you and Langston would say."
"He will say take it."
"Then I will be too happy for words. Ruth, you have not only paid the debt, but you have brought me the greatest joy a man ever had. And there is no need to wait the ages I thought I must. He can tell in a year if I can do the work, and I know I can now; so it's all settled, if Langston agrees."
"He will," said the Girl. "Let me tell him!"
"I wish you would," said the doctor. "I don't know just 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 and the girl and empty the room. Clean, air, and fumigate it thoroughly. Arrange the furniture differently, and help me into the living-room with Ruth." He handed the pad to the doctor.
"Please attend to that," he said, and to the Girl:
"Now we go on a journey. Doc, you and Molly take the corners of the rug we are on and slide us into the other room until you get this aired and freshened."
In the living-room the Girl took one long look at the surroundings and suddenly relaxed. She cuddled against the Harvester and lifting a tremulous white hand, drew it across his unshaven cheek.
"Feels so good," she said. "I'm sick and tired of immaculate men."
The Harvester laughed, tucked her feet in the cover and held her tenderly. The Girl lay with her cheek against the rough khaki, palpitant with the excitement of being moved.
"Isn't it great?" she panted.
He caught the hand that had touched his cheek in a tender grip, and laughed a deep rumble of exultation that came from the depths of his heart.
"There's no name for it, honey," he said. "But don't try to talk until you have a long rest. Changing positions after you have lain so long may be ****** unusual work for your heart. Am I hurting your back?"
"No," said the Girl. "This is the first time I have been comfortable in ages. Am I tiring you?"
"Yes," laughed the Harvester. "You are almost as heavy as a large sack of leaves, but not quite equal to a bridge pillar or a log. Be sure to think of that, and worry considerably. You are in danger of straining my muscles to the last degree, my heart included."
"Where is your heart?" whispered the Girl.
"Right under your cheek," answered the Harvester.
