Miriam took an early opportunity of again calling upon the mistress of the household. She felt no sense of obligation beyond her promise. The visit was entirely a friendly one and was so understood. On the threshold she paused with a bright smile of greeting, which was cordially returned. Entering, she found a cushion of the right height, threw it upon the floor and sat down, resting her arms confidingly on Adah’s lap, studying the face above hers.
“I have noticed how sad thou art, and I think it is the way thy house is built. Thou wouldst not be nearly so lonely if thy dwelling were like ours in Israel: all in one big room with the animals in one part and the family on a raised floor in the other. Of course thou hast too large a household for that, but thou dost not know how comforting it is to hear the animals stamping around in their stalls at night and on rainy days. Here it is so quiet I cannot sleep sometimes.”
Adah frequently did not sleep, but she had never attributed it to the silence.
“If thou couldst but rise early in the morning,” Miriam continued with animation, “and grind the wheat—thou art so rich thou couldst have an ass or a camel harnessed to the mill to do the hardest part of the work—and if thou couldst make up the dough quickly and bake it in cakes for thy family’s breakfast, it would give thee so much delight. Hast thou never tried it?”
“Not the pleasure of toil, Miriam, but I have sometimes wondered—”
“And if thou wouldst pretend to find fault because thy bread is eaten so fast and thy husband would pretend to find fault because thou hast not baked enough, and he would caress thee and say thou canst bake the best bread to be found in any house in Israel—I mean in Syria—it would be such joy to thee. Hast thou never known this?”
“Not the joy of service, Miriam, but I have often thought—”
“And if thou didst see to the clothing of thy entire household instead of having Milcah do it for thee; I mean the spinning and weaving and washing, and couldst look after the conduct and instruction of thy men servants and thy maid servants. If, while thy husband sits in the gate, judging the cause of the people, thou wert also considering the needs of the poor, thou wouldst never have time to be sad. Hast thou never done these things?”
“Not enough to give me the happiness of being necessary, but I have sometimes envied those who were.”
Adah recollected herself with a start. To be making such undignified admissions! Her countenance settled back into its old lines of haughty indifference and Miriam was quick to notice the change. She took the older face tenderly between her hands and kissed it, quite unaware that she was not expected to take such liberties. Her voice was full of pity: