So Martha sat down, and she too watched His mouth, but less for the sake of what He said than to see how He liked the food.  He observed this, and said with a smile, “Everyone is kind in his own way.”  And He continued to reveal in attractive fashion the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven.  But Martha always interrupted Him with remarks on the dishes, or with orders to the servants, until Jesus became almost annoyed, and said sharply:  “Know you not that I will give you food?  The soul is the one thing needful.”

Then they also spoke of the day’s proceedings, and Amon congratulated Him prettily on the great victory at Jerusalem.

“Do you call that a victory?” asked Jesus.  “Amon, do you know men so little?  They see in Me the Messiah King who will conquer the Empire to-morrow.  They, blind creatures, they have no idea of My Kingdom.  They are pleased with words that destroy, they do not want to hear words that build up.  It’s an empty-headed people that can only be roused by need and oppression.  But they will be aroused.”

After dinner He lay down on cushions, the softest that Martha could find in the house.  Young John’s curly head lay on His breast, Magdalen sat at His feet.  Peter lay near by on a carpet; a little farther off sat Amon in his wheeled chair, with Martha stroking his white hair.  John was particularly happy to-day.  He had never seen the Master so calm and gentle.  Yet something depressed the disciple.  At the above remark about the people he observed:  “Master, if they knew how deeply you loved them.”

“They ought to know it.”

“But they cannot know it from the way in which you speak to them.”

“The way in which I speak to them?” said Jesus, and stroked the disciple’s soft hair.  “That is just My John all over.  He cannot understand that you do not stroke buffaloes with peacocks’ feathers.  I’m too hard on these hypocrites, these obdurate, indifferent men, am I?  When I disappoint those who would extract daily profit from Me in the form of miracles, when I lay bare the carefully-concealed thoughts of their hearts, then I am hard.  And when I shatter their childish love of the world, their craving for vanities, then I am hard.  And when they strut about with their condemnations and their hard-heartedness, trampling the weak underfoot out of greed and malice, haughty as the heathens who bring human sacrifices to their gods, I would fain chastise them with a lash of scorpions.  But when the forsaken come to Me, and penitent sinners trustfully seek refuge with Me, then, John, I am not hard.”

The voices of children playing in the courtyard sounded through the open windows.  Jesus turned to His hostess and said:  “Martha!  You have excellently entertained Me in your house.  Will you give Me yet another treat?”

“What is it, Master?  I would leave no wish of yours ungratified.”

“The little ones—­let them come in.”