The red-wings were swarming, the killdeers busy, and he thought of the Dream Girl and smiled.
"I wonder if she would like this," he mused.
When the mullein leaves were deep on the trays of the dry-house he began on the bloom and that was a task he loved.

Just to lay off the beds in swaths and follow them, deftly picking the stamens and yellow petals from the blooms.

These he would dry speedily in hot air, bottle, and send at once to big laboratories.

The listed price was seventy-five cents a pound, but the beautiful golden bottles of the Harvester always brought more.

The work was worth while, and he liked the location and gathering of this particular crop: for these reasons he always left it until the last, and then revelled in the gold of sunshine, bird, butterfly, and flower.