But when two weeks later the drifting petals and the well-dried roads brought Mary Christmas once more over the hill, and they all ran to meet her with glad shouts, Mary Wescott looked at her with different eyes. For she saw in Mary Christmas what she never could have seen if the crab-apple tree had not finished what the traces of tears had begun. V THE GARDEN OF EDEN That second visit of Mary Christmas always stood out in the Wescott mind as being particularly satisfying. In the first place, there were no formalities of introduction or of early acquaintance to be undergone. In other words, they could get right down to the business at hand, which was, as everyone must know, the asking of questions concerning that ancient and distant land the charm of which Mary Christmas had upon her first visit only suggested. Moreover, a year had wrought much improvement in Mary Christmas’ speech. Now there was little necessity to strain one’s ears for familiar words; in fact, there were few words that were unfamiliar. Only the curious rhythm in her voice had not changed, or the deep, rich tones that rose and fell with her changes of mood, or the lingering softness which she gave to especially loved words. Nor was she averse to talking. After dinner, while their father interviewed a client in the library and their mother did some leftover household tasks, the children gathered around her in the warm sunlight of the orchard, white and fragrant with its falling blossoms, and asked the questions they had vainly asked one another all winter long. “Is it really the oldest country in all the world, Mary Christmas--older than the Garden of Eden?” Mary Christmas looked at them all as though she were trying to bridge the gulf between them and her, between their land and her own. There were time and agony in her eyes. Mary Wescott saw them there, though she did not know their names--wise, brooding, long-suffering things that were more ancient even than Mary Christmas’ land. “Is it really the oldest country in all the world, Mary Christmas--older than the Garden of Eden?” “It _is_ the Garden of Eden,” said Mary Christmas, smiling at the slow surprise that crept over their faces. “God made it the first of any land after He had parted the waters. He was tired of looking at just water, and so He made land. That was my land, where Erzerum is now--the Garden of Eden.” “Where Adam and Eve lived, Mary Christmas? And all the trees in the world?” “Yes,” said Mary Christmas. “Trees white like these by the rivers, and blossoms blowing through the air when the spring comes after the long winter.” “And the Tree of Life, Mary Christmas? Is that in Erzerum, even now?” “Yes,” said Mary Christmas. But her eyes grew dark when she told them that, and she would not describe the Tree of Life.