“Ef I’m any jedge o’ human natur’ yo’re both lucky,” he stammered.  “Mr. Westerfelt is about the squarest man I ever struck an’ would fight a circular saw bare-handed, an’ Miss Harriet, I’ll sw’ar I jest can’t think o’ nothin’ good enough to say about you, except ef you hadn’t a-been all wool an’ a yard wide Mr. Westerfelt wouldn’t a-been so crazy about you.”  Washburn laughed out suddenly, and added, “Some time I’ll tell you about how he used to do at night when he couldn’t sleep, especially after Bas’ Bates got to cuttin’ his patchin’, an’ buyin’ paper collars an’ neckties.”

After Washburn had left they sat together on the sofa for several minutes in silence.  The pause was broken by Harriet.

“I’ve been trying to make out what God meant by making us go through all this—­you through all your ups and downs, and me mine.  Don’t you reckon it was so that He could make us feel just like we do now?”

He nodded, but there was a lump of happiness in his throat that kept him from speaking.

“Well, I do,” she said.  “I used to think He hadn’t treated me fair, but I thank Him with all my heart for all of it—­all of it.  I wouldn’t alter a thing.  I believe you love me, and I can’t think of anything else I could want.  I believe you loved me even when you thought I loved Toot Wambush, and if you did then, I know you will now when I tell you I never loved any other man but you, and never even allowed any other man even hold my hand.”