Behind the house, a step out of the garden, stood a dove-cote made of mud. Inside were two wide-mouthed earthen jars that served as nesting-boxes. The pigeons were stepping majestically about on the ground, the sun touching their soft gray feathers with blue and green and rose. Jonas made several lunges at them in the hope of capturing a new plaything, but he succeeded only in stubbing his toe and sitting down hard upon the ground. "No, neither must thou touch them," said Naomi, helping him tenderly to his feet and brushing off the dirt. "It seems to me that there are a great many things that thou must not touch. But I know something that thou canst do. It is my secret, but I do not mind telling thee because thou canst not talk. Thou mayst help me dig a well!" Naomi's voice sank mysteriously as she guided the tottering Jonas back into the garden and over to a bare spot of ground behind the largest of the myrtle bushes. "Sit ye down, Jonas," said Naomi, sinking cross-legged to the ground. "I mean to dig the well here, it will be so handy for Mother. Then never will she have to walk down to the fountain unless she likes. You take that stick and I will use this one." For a few moments the little girl worked industriously, loosening the dry sun-baked soil, while Jonas scratched vigorously with his sharp-pointed stick. "It is hard work, Jonas," sighed Naomi, pausing to shake back her curls. "But it will be worth it when once the well is made. It will be called 'Naomi's well' for me, and years and years from now my great-great-grandchildren will be proud of me because I made it. And when I am an old woman, all thin and brown and dried-up like lame Enoch's grandmother, I will say to my grandchildren, all standing round and listening to every word I say--I will say, 'Grandchildren, I well remember the day thy dear uncle--that is thou, Jonas--and I dug this'--Oh! Oh!" And Naomi screamed aloud and jumped to her feet. Something cold and wet had been placed against the back of her neck, and little shivers were running over her as she turned and saw her brother Ezra behind her, smiling at her fright. In his arms he held a small white lamb, and it was this little animal's nose that had been pressed to Naomi's neck, and that had brought her day-dreaming to such an abrupt close. "Wilt thou not tell the grandchildren anything about their dear Uncle Ezra?" inquired Ezra with a comical look. "Who sharpened those sticks for thee, I would fain know, and thou didst not even tell me what use they were for. How dost thou think the grandchildren would like to hear that?" "How unkind thou art to listen and then laugh at me," said Naomi, putting out her under lip. "I would have told thee, Ezra, about the well only it was a secret. Do not tell Mother, wilt thou? I would fain surprise her. Promise thou wilt not tell, Ezra! Promise!" And Naomi laid an imploring hand upon her brother's arm.