‘It has never been lost; nevertheless I have but now found it. Ha, ha! Child, do you think I have taken leave of my wits? And, indeed, I think I have, for joy,’ laughed Masthlion, straining the girl to his breast and giving her a fervent kiss. ‘Go, bring your mother!’ Neæra glided away into the upper regions of the house on her mission; and, at the request of Masthlion, Cestus took a brand from the fire and lighted an iron lamp which hung from the ceiling. By the time the feeble flame threw its cheerless light upon the scene, Neæra returned with Tibia. The latter, with probably a hint of her husband’s unusual humour, came forward in a peculiar roundabout fashion, as though she were describing the segment of a circle with the potter as a centre. Her face, wreathed in wonder and some fear, was riveted on his, throughout her course, as if her head were magnetised. When she arrived finally on the opposite side of him, she stopped. Masthlion regarded her with an amused smile, and Cestus grinned, almost audibly. Neæra, standing at one side, glanced from one to the other, with a slight wrinkling of her brows, and drew a step nearer Tibia; but the dame remained absorbed in her husband, and indifferent to the amusement her odd manner had caused. ‘Husband!’ she ejaculated at last. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘’Tis what I sent to tell you,’ he said, laughing. ‘Look!’ He seized her hand, and held up the vessel before her eyes in the same way he had done to the others. ‘Here is the result of twenty‐five years’ toil and patience. Here, at last, is success, after disappointments and bitterness beyond my tongue to tell. Do you remember the old times, wife? Ay, can you ever forget them? They were too well ground into you—starvation and rags are not easily forgotten. I was the cause; and though you often blamed me and reproached me in your heart, you never murmured.’ Tibia shook her head gently.