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The Harvester by Gene Stratton-Porter
page 11 of 646 (01%)
10 `` snake root 18 `` 1.80
10 `` blood root 12 `` 1.20
15 `` hoarhound 10 `` 1.50
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``Not so bad,'' he muttered, bending over the figures.
``I wonder if any of my neighbours who harvest the
fields average as well at this season. I'll wager they don't.
That's pretty fair! Some days I don't make it, and then
when a consignment of seeds go or ginseng is wanted the
cash comes in right properly. I could waste half of it on
a girl and yet save money. But where is the woman who
would be content with half? She'd want all and fret
because there wasn't more. Blame that dog!''

He put the book in his pocket, prepared and ate his
supper, heaped a plate generously, placed it on the floor
beneath the table, and set away the food that remained.

``Not that you deserve it,'' he said to space. ``You get
this in honour of your distinguished name and the faithfulness
with which you formerly have lived up to its import.
If you hadn't been a dog with more sense than some
men, I wouldn't take your going back on me now so
hard. One would think an animal of your intelligence
might realize that you would get as much of a dose as I.
Would she permit you to eat from a plate on the kitchen
floor? Not on your life, Belshazzar! Frozen scraps
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