“Theria, you grow more impatient every day. Do you suppose your father can ever get you a husband if you frown like that?” At the word “husband,” the girl gave her mother a startled, puzzled look. She said nothing. Melantho’s thoughts ran in given channels. Her next was of vegetables and fish which Medon must purchase this morning. “Daughter,” she said, “go down and fetch Medon to me.” Quick as thought, Theria dropped her spindle into the basket of snowy wool and sped away. The morning was full of sunshine. Theria carolled like a lark as she tripped down the stair. Housed though she was, Theria never seemed housed. Perhaps the effect upon generation after generation of her forefathers of living out of doors, the strengthening, sweetening effect upon mind and body, had entered into her and made her part of the open air. Through the inner court she ran and burst open the door into the outer court of the men. Here pure amazement stopped her motion. In the outer court stood the most beautiful boy Theria had ever beheld. He had laid aside his himation for the heat, and stood in his short chiton, slender, delicately erect, gazing about his new surroundings with shy yet interested eyes. His hair, honey coloured, was cut short and filleted as if for a holiday. He himself was bronzed by the sun as all high-born boys should be. At sight of Theria he smiled. “Forgive me, lady,” he said. “My father left me here to wait for him.” “Oh,” said Theria, “I thought perhaps a god had done that.” At which speech he blushed, and became a little lovelier. She came toward him. She was not shy, for the boy was younger than she. Besides, she was too delighted with his beauty to be shy. “Whence are you?” she queried. “From Colonos.” “The grove near Athens?” “Yes, the shady, sacred grove. The most beautiful place in the world.” “More beautiful than Delphi?” she smiled. “I think so, lady.” “It is your home,” said Theria gently. “Therefore you love it.” “My father came to consult the Oracle,” explained the boy. “He questions about his ship which comes not back to us. He is now with your father in the Precinct. For you are Nikander’s daughter, are you not?” “Yes—his only daughter,” she answered with pride. How modestly the boy questioned. His respect toward her was something new in Theria’s experience. Both her brothers were brotherly contemptuous. But this stranger was talking with her! To Theria this experience was nothing short of an adventure. She felt it so. Mind and soul sprang up vivid and intense. She began to ask her usual eager questions. “How did you come to Delphi? Was it a long journey? Oh, was it by sea?” “No, lady, by land—through Bœotia and over the mountains.” “How many days?” “Three days—we did not hurry. Yesterday at sunset we came to the Triple Way.” “Where Œdipus met his father.”