"By no means, my child," replied the woman. "You and your sister are
evidently of good family--but pray let us have the pleasure of being of
some help to you.

"I do not know--" Selene stammered.

"If you saw that it hurt me to stoop when the wind blows the strips of
papyrus on to the floor, would you not willingly pick them up for me?"
continued the woman. "What we are doing for you is neither less nor yet
much more than that. In a few minutes we shall have finished and then we
can follow the others, for every one else has left. I am the overseer of
the room, as you know, and must in any case remain here till the last
work-woman has gone."

Selene felt full well that she ought to be grateful for the kindness
shown her by these two women, and yet she had a sense of having a deed of
almsgiving forced upon her acceptance, and she answered quickly, still
with the blood mounting to her cheeks. "I am very grateful for your good
intentions, of course, very grateful; but here each one must work for
herself, and it would ill-become me to allow you to give me the money you
have earned."

The girl spoke these words with a decisiveness which was not free from
arrogance, but this did not disturb the woman's gentle equanimity--"widow
Hannah," as she was called by the workwoman--and fixing the calm gaze of
her large eyes on Selene, she answered kindly:

"We have been very happy to work for you, dear daughter, and a divine
Sage has said that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Do you
understand all that that means? In our case it is as much as to say that