“Not at all. Only a walnut.”
“Fancy! But was there walnuts in the Holy Land?”
“I didn’t say ’twas done in Palestine.”
“Then there wasn’t walnuts there?” His face fell.
“I don’t remember—oh, yes—Solomon asked his love to come into the garden of nuts.”
“But it don’t say walnuts?” he inquired wistfully.
“I can’t say it does.”
“Then maybe there won’t be pickled walnuts in the New Jerusalem?”
“Not all the righteous have your carnal appetite,” said Martha severely.
“You just said Solomon’s sweetheart liked nuts,” said Caleb stoutly. “And dedn’t the Holy Land flow with milk and honey?” He had a vision of it, seamed and riddled like his native mud-flat, but with lacteal creeks and mellifluous pools.