I am going to try just once more, and if you say again that it won't do, I'm going back to Chicago or to my dear Uncle Henry, I haven't decided which." Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were full of tears.
"Why thank you, Ruth! I think that is wonderful," said the Harvester.
"I'll risk the next one.

In the meantime, excuse me if I give you a demonstration of the real thing, just to furnish you an idea of how it should be." The Harvester delivered the sample, and went striding to the marsh.

The dazed Girl sat staring at her work, trying to realize what had happened; for that was the first time the Harvester had kissed her on the lips, and it was the material expression a strong man gives the woman he loves when his heart is surging at high tide.

The Girl sat motionless, gazing at her study.
In the marsh she knew the Harvester was reaping queen-of-the-meadow, and around the high borders, elecampane and burdock.

She could hear his voice in snatches of song or cheery whistle; notes that she divined were intended to keep her from worrying.