Leah stood in the doorway, her cheeks the color of roses, the night breeze lifting her heavy curls, her soft eyes gazing forth into the gathering shadows.
"Come, dear father, the evening meal is ready," she said.
The day's tasks were done. Isaac, exhausted with the emotions and excitement of the day, slept heavily upon his couch. Ezra and Sarah sat in the doorway and the little maid lay upon the ground at their feet, with her curly head resting against her mother's knee.
"Art thou fatigued with thy journey, maiden?" asked Sarah, touching caressingly Leah's rose-flushed cheek.
"Fatigued!" repeated the maiden, with a smile. "No, dear mother, thy Leah is young and strong; 'tis only the poor old ass that is weary."
Ezra sat buried in thought. Now and again the little maid glanced wistfully up into his face. She longed passionately to learn when it was his will for her to seek the prophet in Samaria, but it never occurred to her to question her father or manifest any signs of impatience.
A silence fell upon the three. Sarah thought that the little maid had fallen asleep, so still she lay, but, as Ezra suddenly roused himself and spoke, Leah, sat upright, her eyes eagerly seeking his face across which the light from within fell.
"Maiden," said Ezra, "I have been considering the matter of thy seeking the prophet, Elisha, in Samaria. When ten days have passed the fruits will again have ripened; then will I borrow the ass of our neighbor and thou shalt journey to Samaria. When thou hast sold thy fruits thou canst seek the prophet, Elisha."
Leah's eyes filled with tears, her lips quivered, she was bitterly disappointed. To wait ten days when she hoped and longed to start with the coming dawn for Samaria.