"I do not want her to be up upon a pillar like Artemis and Hebe, who are
still in the hall," Halcyone said. "She could not talk to me then, she
would be always the same. I like to hold her this way and that, and then
I can see her moods and the blue silks keeps her nice and warm."

"It is a great possession," said Cheiron, "and I understand your joy in
it," and he handed the head back to the child with respect.

Halcyone bent and caressed it with her soft little velvet cheek.

"See," she said. "Once I was very foolish and cried about something and
the tears made this little mark," and she pointed to two small spots
which did not gleam quite so much as the rest of the surface. "Tears
always do silly things--I am never so foolish now." And then her young
voice became dreamy and her eyes widened with a look as though she saw
far beyond.

"Cheiron--all the world is made for gladness if we only do not take the
ugly things with us everywhere. There is summer, as it is now, when we
rest and play and all the gods come down from Olympus and dance and sing
and bask in the light--and then the autumn when the colors are rich and
everything prepares for winter and sleeps. But even in the cold and dark
we must not be sad, because we know it is only for a time and to give us
change, so that we may shout for joy when the spring comes and each year
discover in it some new beauty."

Cheiron did not speak for a while, he, too, was musing.

"You are a little Epicurean," he said at last, "and presently we shall