When he had finished the story, no one said anything at all for a minute, and then Daphne looked up at the Stranger.
"Is that really the way all the troubles began?" she asked. "Because if it isn't, I think it's mean to blame everything on poor Pandora."
"Why, Daphne!" said her Mother in a shocked voice; but the Stranger only smiled.
"I should not be surprised if Epimetheus were to blame for a few things himself," he said, stroking his beard. "Anyway, I'm sure he felt he would rather have Pandora and all the troubles in the world than to live without her, and men have felt the same way ever since."
"Well, then," began Daphne, her eyes shining like two blue sparks, "why don't—?"
"Daphne! Daphne!" cried Lydia warningly. "You are talking too much for a little girl."
The Stranger nodded kindly to Lydia. "Let her speak," he said. Daphne spoke.
"Didn't Athena say Epimetheus would get tired of Pandora if she had an empty head?"
"Yes," admitted the Stranger, "the story certainly runs that way."
"And have men felt like that ever since too?" Daphne asked.