“Oh!” said the Harvester. “Well you will have to interview her about that. One word first. She does not know that I sent those pictures and made that inquiry. One other word. She is just recovering from a case of fever, induced by wrong conditions of life before I met her. She is not so strong as she appears. Understand you are not to be abrupt. Go very gently! Her feelings and health must be guarded with extreme care.” The Harvester opened the door, and as she saw the stranger, the Girl's eyes widened, and she arose and stood waiting. “Ruth,” said the Harvester, “this is a man who has been making quite a search for you, and at last he has you located.” The Harvester went to the Girl's side, and put a reinforcing arm around her. “Perhaps he brings you some news that will make life most interesting and very lovely for you. Will you shake hands with Mr. Kennedy?” The Girl suddenly straightened to unusual height. “I will hear why he has been making 'quite a search for me,' and on whose authority he has me 'located,' first,” she said. A diabolical grin crossed the face of the Harvester, and he took heart. “Then please be seated, Mr. Kennedy,” he said, “and we will talk over the matter. As I understand, you are a representative of my wife's people.” The Girl stared at the Harvester. “Take your chair, Ruth, and meet this as a matter of course,” he advised casually. “You always have known that some day it must come. You couldn't look in the face of those photographs of your mother in her youth and not realize that somewhere hearts were aching and breaking, and brains were busy in a search for her.” The Girl stood rigid. “I want it distinctly understood,” she said, “that I have no use on earth for my mother's people. They come too late. I absolutely refuse to see or to hold any communication with them.” “But young lady, that is very arbitrary!” cried Mr. Kennedy. “You don't understand! They are a couple of old people, and they are slowly dying of broken hearts!” “Not so badly broken or they wouldn't die slowly,” commented the Girl grimly. “The heart that was really broken was my mother's. The torture of a starved, overworked body and hopeless brain was hers. There was nothing slow about her death, for she went out with only half a life spent, and much of that in acute agony, because of their negligence. David, you often have said that this is my home. I choose to take you at your word. Will you kindly tell this man that he is not welcome in this house, and I wish him to leave it at once?” The Harvester stepped back, and his face grew very white. “I can't, Ruth,” he said gently. “Why not?” “Because I brought him here.” “You brought him here! You! David, are you crazy? You!” “It is through me that he came.” The Girl caught the mantel for support. “Then I stand alone again,” she said. “Harvester, I had thought you were on my side.” “I am at your feet,” said the man in a broken voice. “Ruth dear, will you let me explain?”