High around the blue-green surface of the lake waved lacy heads of wild rice, lower cat-tails, bulrushes, and marsh grasses; arrowhead lilies lifted spines of pearly bloom, while yellow water lilies and blue water hyacinths intermingled; here and there grew a pink stretch of water smartweed and the dangling gold of jewel flower. Over the water, bordering the edge, starry faces of white pond lilies floated. Blue flags waved graceful leaves, willows grew in clumps, and vines clambered everywhere. Among the growth of the lake shore, duck, coot, and grebe voices commingled in the last chattering hastened splash of securing supper before bedtime; crying killdeers crossed the water, and overhead the nighthawks massed in circling companies. Betsy climbed the hill and at every step the Girl cried, “Slower! please go slower!” With wide eyes she stared around her. “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME IT WOULD BE LIKE THIS?” she demanded in awed tones. “Have I had opportunity to describe much of anything?” asked the Harvester. “Besides, I was born and reared here, and while it has been a garden of bloom for the past six years only, it always has been a picture; but one forgets to say much about a sight seen every day and that requires the work this does.” “That white mist down there, what is it?” she marvelled. “Pearls grown by the Almighty,” answered the Harvester. “Flowers that I hope you will love. They are like you. Tall and slender, graceful, pearl white and pearl pure----those are the arrowhead Lilies.” “And the wonderful purplish-red there on the bank? Oh, I could kneel and pray before colour like that!' “Pokeberry!” said the Harvester. “Roots bring five cents a pound. Good blood purifier.” “Man!” cried the Girl. “How can you? I'm not going to ask what another colour is. I'll just worship what I like in silence.” “Will you forgive me if I tell you what a woman whose judgment I respect says about that colour?” “Perhaps!” “She says, 'God proves that He loves it best of all the tints in His workshop by using it first and most sparingly.' Now are you going to punish me by keeping silent?” “I couldn't if I tried.” Just then they came upon the bridge crossing Singing Water, and there was a long view of its border, rippling bed, and marshy banks; while on the other hand the lake resembled a richly incrusted sapphire. “Is the house close?” “Just a few rods, at the turn of the drive.” “Please help me down. I want to remain here a while. I don't care what else there is to see. Nothing can equal this. I wish I could bring down a bed and sleep here. I'd like to have a table, and draw and paint. I understand now what you mean about the designs you mentioned. Why, there must be thousands! I can't go on. I never saw anything so appealing in all my life.”