“If you want to see me fail,” she said, “talk to me. If you want to see me carry water in this sieve, let me alone.”
“I’m dumb*,” said he.
*"Dumb” at this time meant unable to speak. —PG editor
She eyed the sieve to make sure that it was level and steady. Commodus, also eyeing it, judged it both steady and level.
She brought the ladle over the rim of the sieve and lowered it until it all but touched the middle of the web.
She tilted the ladle slowly, slowly she poured its contents over its lip.
She lifted it clear:
On the web of the sieve lay a silver disk, as it were, of water, round-edged and shining.
“Hercules be good to me!” cried Commodus.
“Keep quiet!” she admonished him. “You’ll put me off.” She dipped up a ladleful of water, flirted half the water out, wiped the bottom of the ladle on her knee and brought it cautiously over the sieve, cautiously she lowered it until it nearly touched the shining disk of water, cautiously she tilted it, cautiously she let its contents flow over its lip.