“To whom shall I give the phial when I have used the stuff in it?”

“Keep it, pray keep it,” begged Antinous.  “It is pretty, and will be twice as precious in my eyes when it belongs to you.”

“It is pretty-but I do not wish for presents.”

“Then destroy it when you have done with it.  You have not forgiven us our dog’s bad behavior, and we are sincerely sorry that our dog—­”

“I am not vexed with you.  Arsinoe pour the medicine into a saucer.”

The steward’s younger daughter immediately obeyed, and noticing as she did so, how pretty the phial was, sparkling with various colors, she said frankly enough: 

“If my sister will not have it, give it to me.  How can you make such a pother about nothing, Selene?”

“Take it,” said Antinous, looking anxiously at the ground, for it had now just occurred to him how highly the Emperor had valued this little bottle, and that he might possibly ask him some time what had become of it.  Selene shrugged her shoulders, and drawing her veil round her head, she exclaimed, with a glance of annoyance at her sister: 

“It is high time!”

“I am not going to-day,” replied Arsinoe, defiantly, “and it is folly for you to walk a quarter of a mile with your swollen foot.”

“It would be wiser to take some care of it,” observed the dealer, politely, and Antinous anxiously added: 

“If you increase your own suffering you will add to our self-reproach.”

“I must go,” Selene repeated resolutely, “and you with me, sister.”

It was not out of mere wilfulness that she spoke, it was bitter necessity, that forced her to utter the words.  To-day, at any rate, she must not miss going to the papyrus factory, for the week’s wages for her work and Arsinoe’s were to be paid.  Besides, the next day, and for four days after, the workshops and counting-house would be closed, for the Emperor had announced to the wealthy proprietor his intention of visiting them, and in his honor various dilapidations in the old rooms were to be repaired, and various decorations added to the bare-looking building.  Hence, to remain away from the works to-day meant, not merely the loss of a week’s pay, but the sacrifice of twelve days, since it had been announced to the work-people, that as a token of rejoicing, and in honor of the imperial visit, full pay would be given for the unemployed days; and Selene needed money to maintain the family, and must therefore persist in her intention.

When she saw that Arsinoe showed no sign of accompanying her, she once more asked with stern determination: 

“Are you coming?—­Yes, or no.”

“No,” cried Arsinoe, defiantly, and sitting farther on the table.

“Then I am to go alone?”

“You are to stay here.”

Selene went close up to her sister and looked at her enquiringly and reproachfully; but Arsinoe adhered to her refusal.  She pouted like a sulky child, and slapping the hand on which she was leaning three times on the table, she repeated, “No—­no—­no.”