“These are Greek statues, aren’t they?” she began, pointing to the group in the middle of the room. “They were on the outside of a temple once, weren’t they? I forget what it was called.” “The Parthenon in Athens,” Mr. Sheston told her. “There’s a model showing the temple as it stood in ancient days, over there in that glass case. We’ll go and examine it in a minute. But first look up and see those young men riding on horseback.” He pointed to a frieze in marble which ran the length of the walls and represented a procession of youths mounted upon beautiful horses. “Now let us have a look at this model which shows part of Athens as it appeared two thousand years or so ago,” he went on, after a moment. The children followed him to a stand upon which, modelled in plaster, was a rocky hill with various buildings like fair-sized toys scattered over its slope. The names of these buildings were written below them, on the white plaster hill, and Diana had just exclaimed, “_Here’s_ the Parthenon!” when a young voice, which neither of the children recognised, but which sounded close at hand, said: “_Seven times with closed eyes shall you bow._” “Diana!” cried Rachel, a few seconds later, “It’s Athens. _Real_ Athens, you know!” There was no doubt about its reality, for they felt the warmth of the sun, saw the overarching blue sky, and gazed with wonder and delight upon a beautiful scene. A hill-side stretched before them, no longer of plaster, but a _real_ hill-side, scattered over with marvellous buildings in white marble, with groves of trees, and stretches of gardens between them. “Look! Look!” exclaimed Diana, recognising at least one of the buildings. “That’s the Parthenon. There are the great beautiful women up in that pointed place above the columns.” “And they’re not broken!” cried Rachel, excitedly. “They’re quite perfect. Look at their faces, and their arms. They had no faces and no arms the last time we saw them.” “And there’s the procession of boys on horseback!” cried Diana, pointing to the frieze.... * * * * * “Will it please you to come with me, O maidens?” enquired a voice, so near that both the children started before they turned round. Behind them stood a boy of perhaps eleven or twelve years old. He was dressed in a shirt or tunic of white wool, without sleeves, and over it a white purple-bordered cloak wrapped about him in such a way as to leave his right arm and shoulder free. His legs were bare, but on his feet were sandals fastened with slender cords of leather strapped about his ankles. His head was covered only by its thick crop of red-gold hair which curled closely about his head, and was one of his many beauties. For he was an exceedingly handsome boy—slim, yet strongly built. He held his head and body well, and all his movements were quick and graceful. “Who are you?” stammered Rachel, the first to recover from surprise.