Hastily calling a servant, he bade him go down to the shore and bring up the band of boys who were playing there. Summoned thus hastily to appear before authority, they approached with some uneasiness, and there was a certain amount of scuffling among them which resulted in the appearance of the would-be bishop in the forefront of the group--and where should a bishop be if not at the head of his flock? "What were you doing down there on the shore?" asked the Patriarch. The boy's clear eyes looked at him with interest, but without a vestige of fear. "We were playing," he said. "It was the baptism of the catechumens. I was the bishop, and they"--pointing to his companions--were the catechumens." "Are you a Christian?" asked Alexander. "Yes," answered the boy proudly. "And these?" "Catechumens." "What did you do?" "I poured the water on them and said the words." "What words?" The boy repeated the formula in perfect Greek. "Did you pour the water as you said the words?" "Yes." The Patriarch's face was troubled. "It is a dangerous game to play at," he said. "What would you say if I told you that you had really baptized them?" The boy looked at him in amazement. "But I am not a bishop," he said. The Patriarch could not help smiling. "Although the bishop usually does baptize the catechumens," he said, "it is not necessary that it should be a bishop, not even necessary that it should be a priest." The boy-bishop looked grave, his companions frightened, the Patriarch thoughtful. "What is your name?" he asked suddenly, laying his hand on the ruddy locks. "Athanasius," answered the boy. "What would you like to be?" he asked. "A priest," was the prompt answer. "A bishop perhaps?" asked Alexander with a smile; "you think it is an easy and a glorious life?" The boy's eyes looked straight into the Patriarch's. "The blessed Peter was a martyr," he answered. "You need much learning to be a priest." "I love learning," said the boy. Alexander noted the broad, intelligent brow, the keen eyes and the clear-cut face before him. His heart went out to this frank and fearless lad who loved the martyrs. "Come to me this evening, and we will talk of this," he said, for his guests were at last to be seen approaching, and his duty lay with them.