At her feet crouched Granny Moreland, rubbing, still rubbing, beneath the covers, while in a steady stream the Harvester was pouring out his song.

If he had listened an instant longer he would have recognized that the tone and the words had changed.

Now it was, "Gently, breathe gently, Girl! Slowly, steadily, easily! Deeper, a little deeper, Ruth! Brave Girl, never another so wonderful! That's my Dream Girl coming from the shadows, coming to life's sunshine, coming to hope, coming to love! Deeper, just a little deeper! Smoothly and evenly! You are making it, Girl! You are making it! By all that is holy and glorious! Stick to it, Ruth, hold tight to me! I'll help you, dear! You are coming, coming back to life and love.

Don't worry yourself trying too hard, if only you can send every breath as deeply as the last one, you can make it.

You brave girl! You wonderful Dream Girl! Ah, Ruth, the name of this is victory!" An hour before Doctor Carey had said to Doctor Harmon and the nurse, as he softly closed the door: "It is over and the Harvester is raving.
We'll give him a little more time and see if he won't realize it himself.