"This," she said, "is terrible, terrible! Where are my daughters?" "Playing about out in the sunshine," I said. "Plump and well-fed, and healthy and cheerful." "This," she repeated, "is terrible, terrible! May I not see them, may I not speak to them, will you not bring them to me?" "Indeed we will," I said and motioned to Agathemer. While he was gone the woman and I regarded each other without speaking. When Agathemer returned with the children I said: "We will leave you to talk to your daughters alone. When you wish us to return send one of the children for us." The joy of the two at the sight of their mother, sensible and able to recognize them, was pathetic. Sobbing and laughing, they flung themselves on the bed and embraced her, kissing her and she kissing each. We went out and set to chopping and riving wood. Before very long Secunda came out and said her mother wanted to speak to me. Leaving Agathemer plying his maul I went in. The woman was now well propped up against a heap of pillows. She told the children to run off and play till she sent for them. Then she motioned me to seat myself on the chest. I did so. She regarded me fixedly, as she had while Agathemer had gone for the children. When she spoke she asked: "What god do you worship?" I was amazed at this unusual and unexpected question and hesitated a moment before I answered: "Mercury, chiefly. Of course, Jupiter and Juno; Dionysius, Apollo, Minerva. But most of all Mercury." She sighed. "I had expected a very different answer," she said. "But, whatever god or gods you worship, you are a good man and your servant is a good man. I am amazed. My children were truthful till I fell ill. I am sure they could not have changed in one winter. In any case Secunda's precocity and Prima's vacuity seem equally incapable of any deception. What they tell me is all but incredible, yet I believe it. You two men have acted to me and mine as if you had been my blood kin. If you two had been my own brothers you could have done no more for us. I shall always be grateful. What are your names?" Agathemer and I had agreed to use the names Sabinus Felix and Bruttius Asper. These names, common enough in Sabinum, we, in fact, had given at the farms where Agathemer's flageolet-playing won us entertainment in the autumn. I gave them now. I added: "It seems best to me that you should not ask either whence we came or whither we are bound." "I understand," she said. "And now," said I, "since you have our names, tell us how we should address the mother of Prima and Secunda." "My name," she said, "is Nona. [Footnote: Ninth.] My mother had a larger family than I am ever likely to be blest with."