The Day of Atonement had just passed and throughout Palestine great preparations were being made for the Feast of Tabernacles, for the harvest yield had been rich. Beginning with the fruits of the oleaster and white mulberry in the early season, the ingathering of wheat, of almonds and Beyrout honey, of apples and apricots and corn, of grapes and of figs, of maize and of pomegranates and dates, of olives and walnuts, had taken place as the months passed, and now from the northern bounds of Galilee to the southern edge of Judea and from Peraea to the sea, pilgrims were ready to set forth with their first-fruits to be offered in the Temple. The vineyards and olive orchards of Lazarus had yielded bountifully, and the laborers had been accounted worthy of their hire and generously paid.

Martha had been busy putting in her store of corn and wine and now, late on the last day before Atonement was counting her pig skin bottles while Eli cleaned the ashes from the big earthenware oven. "Hath Mary carried the last of her boughs to the housetop?" she questioned, glancing into the court. And without waiting for an answer she continued, "Such a pile of myrtle and olive and palm branches as hath not before been used in an arbor hath Mary dragged up the steps, and made into a bower. Anna doth build her bower in the garden, but not so my sister who will have hers set where she can sit under its roof of leaves and look out over the hills where there are a thousand booths. And with her harp she sings. Listen—but Eli, there is a new skin bottle missing!" and grave concern was in Martha's voice.

"My beloved is mine and I am his
Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away."

The words floated gently out on the air from the housetop. The voice was that of Mary.

"Mary—Mary!" called Martha. "A new pig-skin bottle is missing." And she started toward the stair steps. Hearing no answer she hurried upward calling, "Mary, Mary, canst thou not hear?"

"Many waters can not quench love.
Neither can the floods drown it,
For love is strong as death—"

Mary sang, lightly touching the strings of her harp as she sat under her bower of myrtle and palm.

"Mary, a new skin bottle is missing!" the housewife shouted in her sister's ear, "and the foolishness thou singeth doth make thee deaf."

"'Foolishness,' thou sayest? Once, to me also the beauty of it were hidden. But now—listen, Martha—

"I sat under his shade with great delight
And his fruit was sweet
He brought me into his banqueting house
And his banner over me was love.

Since the Master hath come it seemeth clear. Is not his wisdom a banquet? Are not the wondrous beauty of his words and the tones of his voice like sweetest fruit and is not his banner of love over us?"

"That shouldst thou know, for since the first time he crossed our threshold thou hast made thy dwelling place at his feet. And his banner of love methinks is large enough for all sorts of women to find place under, even such kind as would pollute thee by a touch."

"What meanest thou, Martha?"

"No more than I did say. Did not Joel attend a feast where Jesus had been bidden? And lo, as they sat at meat did not a woman make her way to the feet of Jesus and there sit—aye, a woman of the town? And did he not look into her eyes when she was spoken harshly to, even as he looketh into thine? And did he not say comforting words to her and excuse her, saying she had loved much—aye, loved even to her own damnation?"

"For this alone could I love Jesus," Mary answered, "even this—he pities womankind, nor thrusts them beyond the circle of his kindness because they have been weak. Not of evil cometh woman's confidence, which, betrayed, maketh her an outcast. But of goodness cometh confidence."

"Thy speech soundeth well, but it stirreth not mercy in my heart for she who sins against the Law."

"Hard and often cruel is the Law. Dost thou ever think, Martha, that in the sight of God, to sin against love may be a greater sin than to sin against the Law?"

"I know not the meaning of thy question. Dost think I am a Rabbi?"

"Thou hast a right to think on these things even if thou art not a
Rabbi."

"Nay—no right have I, for doth not the Law say a woman shall not be taught?"

"What the Law denieth, the Master doth allow. Doth he not ever bid me sit at his feet and learn?"

"Far be it from me," Martha said, "to say aught against the teachings of the Master, yet a woman's place is not with Rabbis. To serve is her lot."

"Methinks thou didst make this speech once to Jesus."

"Yea," Martha answered, "and thou needst not remind me he said thou hadst chosen the better part. Yet have I noticed that neither thy desire for wisdom, nor his for imparting it, did satisfy his belly. Even as Lazarus and Joel, doth he take his meat and wine."

Voices in the garden announced the coming of Lazarus and Joel. Martha leaned over the parapet and called, "A new skin bottle is missing."

"Hath it been stolen?" Joel asked.

"I greatly fear it hath," she replied anxiously.

When they came out upon the housetop, Lazarus said in a voice of emotion, "Alas—woe be upon us. Yea, misery hath fallen to our lot. Ah, that my soul should have lived to see this evil hour!"

"What hath happened?" Mary asked, resting the fingers that had been lightly touching the harp strings. "Hath evil tidings?"

"Alas that this should have fallen upon this household. Canst thou, Mary, sustain the grief of thy sister while I do break the evil tidings?"

"Thou dost distress my soul!" Martha exclaimed. "Speak."

"A new skin bottle is missing," Lazarus solemnly declared.

After the laughter which followed, Martha said, "Thou, Lazarus, and thy sister Mary would both starve had not our father saved his mites. Doth not our own Solomon teach of the saving ways of the ant?"

"The words of the Galilean Rabbi mean more to Mary than the wisdom of
Solomon," Joel observed.

"The son of David," Mary answered, "was not his heart led of strange women?"

"Cast not blame on him," Joel said. "Snared he was by the daughters of
Baal as was our father Adam tempted of Eve."

"Man is queer. Ever he doth boast of being strong, yet doth he ever likewise boast of being led astray," reflected Mary.

"Joel," Lazarus asked, "how camest thou in the net of Martha? Didst thou walk in, or wert thou dragged?"

"I did walk," Joel answered, laughing. "But Martha is not like other women."

"And I did prepare the way for his walking, for much did my heart desire a man with such beard," Martha confessed.

"Martha's heart hath been drawn out by a man's beard. What drew thy heart when first thou set eyes on the Master?" and Lazarus turned to Mary. "Thou shouldst have seen her, Joel," he continued. "Long had we waited in the Temple for a sight of him and we had turned on to the porch when Mary did look back. Then her feet stopped as if turned to salt and in my ear she did whisper, with undue excitement, 'Look! Look! Is that Jesus?' And I did look. And behold, the Master stood with a small child in his arms. Then did Mary refuse to move forward, but established her feet on the stones of the portico and with her hands on my shoulders did she lean that she might see the man. And while she did thus lean, he raised his eyes from the face of the child in his arms and looked straight at Mary. Dost thou remember, Mary?"

"Some things the heart can not forget," Mary answered, resting her head against her harp. "Never will I forget the Master as I saw him first. Against a white marble pillar carved with lilies he stood. Behind him, high against the line made by the portico roof, was the blue, blue sky—bending as it touched the purple mountains and the green and silver olive hills. Straight and strong he stood, and the little one did look into his face as if there it saw its future. One of its hands lay on Jesus' cheek and the other was close hidden in his large hand. When the child stroked the face of the man and smiled, the man kissed it, rested his hand upon its head a moment in blessing and gave it to its mother. Will I forget? No, never!"

"And when he did put the child down," Lazarus said, "lo, he did turn his face toward Mary. Twice had I asked him to be my guest, yet had his heart not given assent. Now he came. Over Olivet we made our way in the sunset, and on the brow of the hill we stopped to look back, and Mary's tongue did lend her voice to praise the Temple."

"Yea, my brother. Was ever Jerusalem so holy as that night, or the Temple so glorious? From the gathering shadows of the deep valleys the hand of God had placed about it, rose Zion like a towering island of gold and snow, rearing its shining lines against a burnished crimson sky and raising its gleaming towers, crown above crown to the stars above. Dost remember it, Lazarus?"

"Yea, and why not? Daily ever had I seen it, and even so, had the Rabbi, though he did seem to get a new vision of it from thy speech and face which did so please him."

"And, Lazarus, dost thou not hear it yet—the music of that night? From the throats of a thousand Levites rang out the evening chant which did move over the valley on noiseless wings and lose itself in the gathering night, making all the earth seem blessed. Canst thou forget it? Never shall I."

"Neither shall I forget," said Martha, "when thou didst reach home with thy guest, Mary. Thou didst rush upon me with the news so that I upset a pot of roast and burned my finger, and all for naught save that a Galilean Rabbi was to sup with us. Yet did I know the man would win the heart of Mary when she showed him to her lily bed, as surely as I did know Zador Ben Amon had lost her by too much eating of bird tongues, for I did hear him say—'Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.'"

"And dost thou yet think on his words of wisdom as we sat at meat:
Great be the mystery of life and great the hunger for Eternal Life."

"Now is Mary started again on speech-making which will begin with the bones of our fathers and end with the hereafter. I care not for it. Let us go, Joel, that we count the pig-skin bottles once again before daylight has waned."

When Martha and Joel had gone, Lazarus made himself comfortable with his feet against the parapet and turned to Mary.

"Once I sat with him upon the housetop," she said.

"Yea, Mary."

"The night was still and under the stars did stretch the far dim lines of the Mountains of Moab. Of days long gone did he speak—days when our fathers wandered in search of a Promised Land. When, from regions far beyond, the spies of Israel crossed the Moabitish hills, they did go to the home of an harlot. Wherefore they went hath not been handed down. Mayhap to teach the woman the seventh commandment of Moses. But they did go and she was an harlot. And when their hiding was discovered she let them over the wall and they escaped. For this kindness was her life spared, and when our fathers took the city, Salmon did wed the harlot. Then did Salmon beget Boaz; Boaz begat Obed; Obed begat Jesse; Jesse begat David. Thus was an harlot the mother in Israel of whom was begotten Israel's kings. And is not the blood of David in the veins of him we love—even Jesus? It is not strange he hath ever words of kindness and a helping hand for women downtrodden by the Law, for as the eye of God seeth good in what the Law condemns, so doth the heart of the Master, and he hath courage to speak."

"Yea. To be with him doth give new visions."

"And great love. Sometimes when I am with him or my mind traveleth far paths with him, it seemeth as if God was pouring love into my heart until it is full to overflowing. Again it seemeth I hunger for love."

"Thy heart need not hunger for love. Thou art much loved."

"I know thou dost love me much."

"All who know thee, love thee."

"The Master?"

"Yea, yea—he loveth thee."

"Ah, Lazarus, this is knowledge my heart doth hunger for. I know he doth love me for he loveth all women. Martha sayeth he doth look upon the women of the street even as in my eyes he looketh. Joel did tell her so."

"Joel discerneth not the difference between sympathy in the eye of pity, and hunger in the eye of such love as constraineth a man to take one woman to himself apart from all the world even as the wild dove taketh its mate to the hidden cleft of the solitary rock. The Master hath no common love for thee."

"How knoweth thou this, my brother?"

"He is a man. I am a man. Hungry he sitteth at meat as a man. Weary he resteth his limbs as a man. Merry he looketh upon the fair arms and flying garments of dancers at the wedding as a man. Sad doth he grow, and troubled, as a man. With a child held to his bosom the tenderness of fatherhood sounds in his voice and with thee at his side the mightiest love with which the Creator hath blessed man, toucheth his soul. Did not the Creator so make man that it is not good for him to be alone? None but the heathen teach contrary to the Law."

"Thy words are to my heart as a song of Zion to the captives in
Babylon. Yet would I have a sign from him."

"So do women always want signs," Lazarus laughed.

Mary rested her head against the myrtle twined support of the bower and looked away to the sky of the setting sun—nor did Lazarus disturb her thoughts by speaking. The hush of evening was brooding over the distant valleys soon to be enfolded in the twilight and there was no sound on the housetop when, a few moments later, Mary heard her name spoken just behind her. A man had come quietly up the steps and stopped where they opened on the roof. He wore a travel-stained garment, carried a staff and held against one shoulder some branches of flowering green. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock," he said, as Mary and Lazarus with a glad cry, sprang up to greet him.