Suddenly she looked down; the dark lashes rested softly against her cheeks warm as sunny roses. “I must go home now,” she murmured. “Good-by.” She got swiftly to her feet. “I will not look in my mirror any more,” she said, “if you think it is wrong.” And she ran away without once looking behind her. When she got home she hid her mirror in a box of ivory and sandalwood. Then she went to put her silver dove away also. But all at once, instead of hiding it, she gave it a kiss on its ruby eyes. “Little dove,” she said, “tell me what love is.” Going to her box, she took out her mirror again, and gazed for a long time, and with a smile, at her own reflection. Jonah went thoughtfully home. There he found his Uncle David, who had stopped in for a moment to see if anything was being cooked. Deborah was filling the lamps for the Sabbath. When she saw Jonah she straightened her bent back, and remarked anxiously, “Where have you been all morning?” “I have been out walking,” replied Jonah evasively. And he sat gloomily down in a corner of the room, as far as possible from his uncle. Then all at once he burst out laughing. When his mother asked him what he was laughing at, he answered, “I was thinking of a green beetle.” “You see,” said Uncle David, nodding his head, “he is not all there.” Deborah arose, and went to fetch more oil for the lamps. As she passed her son, she touched his forehead with her hand. “What is there so peculiar about that?” she demanded of her brother. “Or perhaps you have never seen a green beetle? Well, I have been amused by them myself.” “Sit still for a little,” she said anxiously to Jonah; “after walking so much in the sun.” Uncle David settled himself comfortably in his seat. “To-day,” he said, “who should I meet but Bildad, the water carrier. He said to me, ‘This is fine news about your nephew, Jonah. I suppose that we shall hear from you soon,’ and with that he gave me a look full of meaning. “I did not reply; naturally, because I had nothing to say. Could I tell him the truth? We should be the laughing-stock of the entire village. I simply wrinkled my forehead and looked as grave as possible. At any rate, my expression struck him as peculiar, because he said as he went away, ‘Excuse me for intruding in your affairs.’” “I have been thinking of something,” said Deborah. “It has occurred to me that if we do not give a feast, people might begin to think that we wished to give ourselves airs.” “There you are,” said David; “that is the way I feel about it, word for word. Speak up, and people believe you. Otherwise what is the good of all this?” Jonah stirred uneasily in his corner. “Mother,” he said, “do you really insist upon giving a feast for me? I think it is foolish. Still, if it would give you pleasure ... but who would come? The whole village, I suppose. Would you actually ask the prince, and his niece?” “What?” cried David; “what? I shall ask him myself, because I am acquainted with him in a humble way.”