"Aye," said Ezra firmly, "a Baby! A Baby born in a stable and lying in a manger because there was no room last night at the inn."
"But I cannot see it, Ezra," said Naomi mournfully. "Why should I go? I cannot see."
"Dost thou remember, too, how Deborah's baby clung to thy finger?" said the crafty Ezra, guiding her tenderly down the steps as he talked. "And did ye not find it pleasant to hold? You rocked it to and fro all day long, Naomi. You said that you wished that Jonas might be put back in swaddling clothes again."
"Aye, it was pleasant," admitted Naomi. "But Deborah brought the baby to me. I will not go to the khan, Ezra. I do not wish to meet any one. My heart is heavy. There will be people to stare at me and to talk in the lanes and at the stable. I will not go."
"Naomi," said Ezra desperately, "dost thou love me?"
"Aye, thou knowest that I love thee," answered Naomi in surprise.
"Then, to please me, come to the inn stable," was Ezra's quick response. "Ask me no questions and delay not, but come. It is early, Naomi. We will meet no one, I hope and trust. Give me thy hand and come."
Naomi instantly slipped a thin little hand into her brother's outstretched palm.
"For love of thee, Ezra," said she sweetly. "For love of thee."