“I can't see that,” said the Girl. “It would appear to me that I would be under more obligations than I could repay, and to a stranger.” “I figure it this way,” said the Harvester, watching from the corner of his eye. “I can sell at good prices all the mullein flowers I can secure. You collect for me, I buy them. You can use drawing tools; I get them for you, and you pay me with the mullein or out of the ginseng money I owe you. You already have that coming, and it's just as much yours as it will be ten days from now. You needn't hesitate a second about drawing on it, because I am in a hurry for the moth pattern. I find time to carve only at night, you see. As for being under obligations to a stranger, in the first place all the debt would be on my side. I'd get the drugs and the pattern I want; and, in the second place, I positively and emphatically refuse to be a stranger. It would be so much better to be mutual helpers and friends of the kind worth having; and the sooner we begin, the sooner we can work together to good advantage. Get that stranger idea out of your head right now, and replace it with thoughts of a new friend, who is willing”--the Harvester detected panic in her eyes and ended casually--“to enter a partnership that will be of benefit to both of us. Partners can't be strangers, you know,” he finished. “I don't know what to think,” said the Girl. “Never bother your head with thinking,” advised the Harvester with an air of large wisdom. “It is unprofitable and very tiring. Any one can see that you are too weary now. Don't dream of such a foolish thing as thinking. Don't worry over motives and obligations. Say to yourself, 'I'll enter this partnership and if it brings me anything good, I'm that much ahead. If it fails, I have lost nothing.' That's the way to look at it.” Then before she could answer he continued: “Now I want all the mullein bloom I can get. You'll see the yellow heads everywhere. Strip the petals and bring them here, and I'll come for them every day. They must go on the trays as fresh as possible. On your part, we will make out the order now.” He took a pencil and notebook from his pocket. “You want drawing pencils and brushes; how many, what make and size?” The Girl hesitated for a moment as if struggling to decide what to do; then she named the articles. “And paper?” He wrote that down, and asked if there was more. “I think,” he said, “that I can get this order filled in Onabasha. The art stores should keep these things. And shouldn't you have water-colour paper and some paint?” Then there was a flash across the white face. “Oh if I only could!” she cried. “All my life I have been crazy for a box of colour, but I never could afford it, and of course, I can't now. But if this splendid plan works, and I can earn what I owe, then maybe I can.”