This she made plain by many silent acts of helpless love that knew no way to speak aloud.

Thus she would lay flowers on the seats where her mother had used to sit, and, if at night she found them untouched where she had left them, her little face would fall, and her laughter die off her lips; but if they had withered and some one had cast them into the oven, she would laugh again and fetch other flowers from the fields, until the house would be full of the odour of the meadow and the scent of the hill.
And well they knew, who looked upon her then, whom she missed, and what the question was that halted on her tongue; yet how could they answer her?
There was no way to do that until she herself knew how to ask.
But this she did on a day near to the end.

It was evening, and she was being put to bed by Habeebah, and had just risen from her innocent pantomime of prayer beside Ali, when Israel, coming from Ruth's chamber, entered the children's room.

Then, touching with her hand the seat whereon Ruth had used to sit, Naomi laid down her head on the pillow, and then rose and lay down again, and rose yet again and rose yet again lay down, and then came to where Israel was and stood before him.

And at that Israel knew that the soul of his helpless child had asked him, as plainly as words of the tongue can speak, how often she should lie to sleep at night and rise to play in the morning before her mother came to her again.
The tears gushed into his eyes, and he left the children and returned to his wife's chamber.
"Ruth," he cried, "call the child to you, I beseech you!" "No, no, no!" cried Ruth.
"Let her come to you and touch you and kiss you, and be with you before it is too late," said Israel.