When, therefore, in the spring Apollo returned, the whole heart of the little girl went forth to him in love. Theria knew well how her god must look. Every vase and kylix in the house bore pictures of Apollo. And long ago her child mind had selected, from among the beautiful youths she had seen come by on pilgrimage, one who seemed to her like the god himself. Always at the word “Apollo” Theria saw again that fresh-hearted happy boy moving, flushed and expectant, toward the Precinct, and on his face that same look of dear surprise, youth’s first response to life. Apollo always arrived at Delphi on his birthday the seventh of Busious. Then the whole Precinct and the town awoke to greet him with song and festival. In Nikander’s house slaves ran to and fro on busy errands; for of a surety guests would be coming from the ends of the earth. The purples and the woven curtains came forth from Theria’s familiar storeroom, and all the house glowed with the patterns and pictures of tapestries. What joy to the little girl that busyness and commotion. Past the house on the highroad now came throngs of pilgrims, more of them every day. At these times no forbiddings or punishments could keep Theria away from the window. Here came men from Corinth, Thebes, Argos, and the islands of the sea. Rich men on horseback with trains of slaves, poor men whose anxious faces showed plain their question to the god. “Even the wolves bring gifts to Delphi,” was the saying; and some of these with their heavy mountain faces and clothes of skin seemed wild and wolf-like to the little girl. Now would pass a delegation from some distant Delphian colony bearing the tithe gift to the mother fane; for Apollo was founder of cities. It was he who had first led the colonists to their distant lands over the misty deep. Sculptors came accompanying their statues; poets brought their songs. Now would pass an Ionian gentleman in long purple cloak, laughing, gesturing; now a quiet young philosopher whose large-eyed vivid face showed his spirit-quest. Philosophers were well known in Delphi and more welcome than kings. How eagerly the visitors talked as they came along. They had arrived after long journeying to within sight of their goal. The broad Doric speech, the melodious Attic, the barbarous dialects mixed with the speech of Scyths, Sikels, and Gauls, all these she heard. Among these passers-by were sure to be some who would stop and enter Nikander’s door—guests of the priestly house. Often these were men of high renown, but quite as often they would be poor, in threadbare garments, who had came to the Oracle in bitter need. To these Nikander’s ministry was almost un-Greek in its overflowing sympathy. An inherited skill of kindness was his and his poet quality of insight was of no peculiar race or date. Many a troubled wight came forth from Nikander’s presence, serene to face the god. * * * * *