from any other shepherd that ranged the mountainous pastures of
Palestine.

She, who all her life had never known anything but to expect the
tenderest of ministrations, was humbly surprised and grateful at the
free-handed generosity of the young stranger. Momus looked at him with
grudging approval.

"It is kindly shelter," she said finally with effort, "and it is warm.
You are very good to us!"

"But you have not eaten of my salt," he declared.

Momus showed interest. It had been long since the last meal in the
luxurious house of Costobarus. The boy in the meantime produced
unleavened loaves from the carry-all of sheepskin that hung over his
shoulders, and without explanation disappeared among his flock.
Presently he returned with a small skin of milk.

"We have goats in the flock," he said. "A shepherd can not live
without a goat. You do not know about shepherds," he added.

Laodice thought that she detected tactful inquiry in his last remark
and roused herself painfully to make due explanations to her host. But
he waved his hands at her, with the desert-man's courtesy which covers
fine points better than the greater ones.

"Eat my fare; I do not purchase thy history with salt and shelter," he
said, with a certain sublimity of honor.