"The Christ!" he responded.
Momus plucked quickly at Laodice's sleeve and shook his head at her in an admonitory manner. He had laid down his bread unfinished. But the shepherd looked at him sympathetically.
"Never fear," he said. "It will not hurt her to hear about Him. He makes Pella safe from armies. Let her come there and see for herself."
Laodice pressed his hand.
"I shall come," she said.
He heaved a contented sigh–contented with himself, contented with her promise to come. Then he drew his hands away.
"The sheep are noisy; they will not let you sleep. We shall go." Then as if afraid of her thanks he drew away, and halted at the threshold of the shelter. Then the boy extended his hands with a gesture so solemn that both of his guests bowed their heads instinctively.
"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you for evermore. Farewell," he said in a half-whisper.
He was gone.
Presently the rush of little feet swept after him and his high, wild, youthful yell rang faintly in the distance. The delicate crackling from the heated bed of coals was all that was heard in the sheltered wady roofed with skins.