"That's a good word," said the Harvester, "and it must mean a wonderful thing----to some men.

'Who bides his time.' Well, I'm 'biding,' and if my time ever comes to be my Dream Girl's husband, I'll wager all I'm worth on one thing.

I'll study the job from every point of the compass, and I'll see what showing I can make on being the kind of a husband that a woman clings to and loves at eighty." Taking a deep breath the Harvester lifted the letter, and laying one hand on Belshazzar's head, he proceeded----"I might as well admit in the beginning that I cried most of the way here.

Some of it was because I was nervous and dreaded the people I would meet, and more on account of what I felt toward them, but most of it was because I did not want to leave you.

I have been spoiled dreadfully! You have taught me so to depend on you----and for once I feel that I really can claim to have been an apt pupil----that it was like having the heart torn out of me to come.