High above the flat roofs and massive walls of Jerusalem shone the great gold and white Temple of the Hebrews. The little party halted at the sight. Aunt Miriam's lips moved in prayer. Naomi was silent as she gazed. She recalled the lines in one of the hymns her mother had taught her:

"We have thought on thy lovingkindness, O God, in the midst of thy temple."

To the pious little Jewish girl there could be no more beautiful nor inspiring sight than that of the sacred Temple set in the midst of the Holy City. She kept a reverent silence until they reached the Bethlehem gate where entered all the trade and travel from Egypt and the sea.

But once Naomi was lifted down from the cart, and placed in the shade of the huge gateway to wait with Aunt Miriam while Jacob justified their presence in the city to the haughty Roman guard, her tongue wagged on as merrily as before.

"We have no watch-tower like this one on our gateway at home, Aunt Miriam," she observed, glancing up and down and roundabout. "I suppose that ten soldiers could stand in this one at once if they liked."

Her aunt nodded absently. Her thoughts were with Jacob, still talking with the Roman guard. She hoped there would be no trouble on this day of all days when Simon was not with them.

"Wilt thou buy me a drink, Aunt Miriam?" Naomi asked next. "Not of water, but of honey of wine."

The water-carriers were rough-looking bearded men who ran about in short frocks, shouting and rattling their brass cups, with dingy goatskin bottles lashed upon their backs. Naomi was afraid of them. She liked far better the row of peasant women with grape juice to sell, who sat against the wall and called out:

"Honey of wine! Who will buy? Honey of wine! Ho, every one that is athirst, come! Buy and drink! Honey of wine!"

A moment later she had forgotten that she was thirsty and was watching two poor women who sat in a corner on the ground grinding at a stone mill. Near by stood a man selling the cakes new made from the meal the women had ground. It was hard work turning the handles that pressed the meal between the upper and nether millstones, and the women worked wearily.