"Who are these two men that sit together in the portico?" asked he of a Christian as he came up in front of the house.
"Tharsos, the owner of the mansion, and Orestes, a shepherd from the valley beyond."
"They speak as brothers," said the traveller, raising his eyebrows and passing by.
Going to a side door, he was about to knock when a woman approached from behind luxuriant vines, with a twig of olive blossoms in her hand. She walked towards him with quiet grace, her countenance inspiring all respect and trust.
Bowing low, the traveller said—"My name is Timon. I have travelled far, and am footsore and in want."
"Enter in," said Pathema kindly, "sit at yonder table with the rest, and thou shalt have water to wash thy feet."
Going in, the ex-detective was met by a pretty boy with golden hair and deep blue eyes, the first-born son of Tharsos and Pathema. The child took a gentle hold of his sun-brown hand to lead him to food and rest. The weary stranger clasped the tender fingers, and looking down into the trusting, thoughtful face, he said—-
"Child of a noble mother, thou hast made me glad."
"Come," said the little one lovingly, "come."
"Tell me thy name, darling."