Surely it won't be long now!" The Harvester was so hopeful that he whistled and sang on the return to Medicine Woods, and that night for the first time in many days he sat long over a candlestick, and took a farewell peep into her room before he went to bed.
The next day he worked with all his might harvesting the last remnants of early spring herbs, in the dry-room and store-house, and on furniture and candlesticks.
Then he went back to flower gathering and every day offered bunches of exquisite wood and field flowers and white and gold water lilies from door to door.
Three weeks later the Harvester, perceptibly thin, pale, and worried entered the office.

He sank into a chair and groaned wearily.
"Isn't this the bitterest luck!" he cried.

"I've finished the town.

I've almost walked off my legs.

I've sold flowers by the million, but I've not had a sight of her." "It's been almost a tragedy with me," said the doctor gloomily.