“Well since you've told it, is your conscience perfectly at ease? No you don't! You sit where you are! You are lovely, and if you don't use enough powder to cover the paleness, until your colour returns, I'll hold you and put it on. I know you feel better when you appear so that every one must admire you.” “Yes, but I'm a fraud!” “You are no such thing!” cried the Harvester hotly. “There hasn't a woman in ten thousand got any such rope of hair. I have been seeing the papers on the hair question, too. No one will believe it's real. If they think your hair is false, when it is natural, they won't be any more fooled when they think your colour is real, and it isn't. Very soon it will be and no one need ever know the difference. You go on and fix up your level best. To see yourself appearing well will make you ambitious to become so as soon as possible.” “Harvester-man,” said the Girl, gazing at him with wet luminous eyes, “for the sake of other women, I could wish that all men had an oath to keep, and had been reared in the woods.” “Here is the place we adjourn to the moon,” cried the Harvester. “I don't know of anything that can cure a sudden accession of swell head like gazing at the heavens. One finds his place among the atoms naturally and instantaneously with the eyes on the night sky. Should you have a wrap? You should! The mists from the lake are cool. I don't believe there is one among my orders. I forgot that. But upstairs with mother's clothing there are several shawls and shoulder capes. All of them were washed and carefully packed. Would you use one, Ruth?” “Why not give it to me. Wouldn't she like me to wear her things better than to have them lying in moth balls?” The Harvester looked at her and shook his head, marvelling. “I can't tell how pleased she would be,” he said. “Where are her belongings?” asked the Girl. “I could use them to help furnish the house, and it wouldn't appear so strange to you.” The Harvester liked that. “All the washed things are in those boxes upstairs; also some fine skins I've saved on the chance of wanting them. Her dishes are in the bottom of the china closet there; she was mighty proud of them. The furniture and carpets were so old and abused I burned them. I'll go bring a wrap.” He took the candle and climbed the stairs, soon returning with a little white wool shawl and a big pink coverlet. “Got this for her Christmas one time,” he said. “She'd never had a white one and she thought it was pretty.” He folded it around the Girl's shoulders and picked up the coverlet. “You're never going to take that to the woods!” she cried. “Why not?” She took it in her hands to find a corner.