She moved listlessly along, and when her aunt took her hand she clung to her so heavily that good Aunt Miriam stopped short on the side of the hill.
"What ails thee, child?" said she, bending over Naomi. "Thou art not like thyself. Thine eyes look strangely heavy, even like those of little Three Legs. Art thou ill?"
"Nay," said Naomi crossly. Surely to have sudden pains shoot through one's eyes was not to be ill. "I would see the gardens of King Herod. That is what I want."
"The child is weary," said little Martha's mother kindly. "She has had a long journey to-day besides this visit to the Temple. The gardens of King Herod will wait for thee, Naomi, until another time when thou art rested. They will not run away."
But Naomi would not smile at this little joke. She pulled pettishly away when good friend Anna placed her hand upon her forehead to see if she were feverish.
"I would see the gardens of King Herod," she repeated plaintively, rubbing her eyes as she spoke. "Ezra saw them, with rivers and flowers and fountains. He saw doves and pigeons flying through the air. He saw a great beast that spouted water from its mouth, and I would fain see it, too."
The magnificent gardens of the King of Judea were open all day long to any one who wished to enter and enjoy their beauty, their coolness, and their shade. Canals flowed between green banks, flowers bloomed and trees rustled, fountains played in the sunlight, and tiny fish darted hither and thither in the artificial pools. But there, too, bright against the green, was to be seen the white marble of statues—nymphs, and dryads, figures symbolizing grace and beauty—and for this reason, since to him all statues were idols, no Jew would set foot within King Herod's garden.
All that Naomi could hope to do, beside gazing at the three famous castles of white marble, with their battlements and turrets, built by Herod the Great, and at his own splendid palace with its massive walls and towers, was to peep at the garden through the open gateways or perhaps from the top of the wall, as Ezra had done.
But Aunt Miriam, with sturdy common sense, had no intention of taking the weary and ailing little girl on the long trip across Cheesemonger's Valley from the Mount of the Temple to Mount Zion where the palaces stood. She beckoned to Jacob who had walked near them all the way, and when he came forward she said:
"Carry the little maid home, Jacob. She is exceedingly weary and needs a night's rest."