She brought with her a water-jar and a basket, the contents of the latter covered with a snow-white napkin.

Placing them on the ground at her side, she loosened the shawl which fell from her head, knit her fingers together in her lap, and gazed demurely up to where the hill drops steeply down into Aceldama and the Potter's Field.
It was very early, and she was the first to arrive at the well.
Soon, however, a man came bringing a rope and a leathern bucket.
Saluting the little dark-faced woman, he undid the rope, fixed it to the bucket, and waited customers.

Others who chose to do so might draw water for themselves, he was a professional in the business, and would fill the largest jar the stoutest woman could carry for a gerah.
Amrah sat still, and had nothing to say.

Seeing the jar, the man asked after a while if she wished it filled; she answered him civilly, "Not now;" whereupon he gave her no more attention.

When the dawn was fairly defined over Olivet, his patrons began to arrive, and he had all he could do to attend to them.