I shall be fearfully dictatorial and you must submit, because the fates have pointed out that they favour me to-day, and if you go contrary to their decrees you will have a bad time." The Girl's smile was a little wan.

She sank on a chair and picked up a pencil.
"Lay that down!" cried the Harvester.

"You haven't had permission from the Dictator to begin drawing.

You are to sit and rest a long time." "Please may I speak ?" asked the Girl.
The Harvester grew foolishly happy.

Was she really going to play the game?
Of course he had hoped, but it was a hope without any foundation.
"You may," he said soberly.
"I am afraid that if you don't allow me to draw the moth at once, I'll never get it done.