rounded condition, he heard the hoofs of the donkey driven by Mopsus, the
heavy thud of a stick on the elastic flesh, and after every blow, the
shout, "Semestre!"

Directly after Mopsus and his donkey reached the old man, and as the
youth, without looking to the right or left, dealt the animal another
thwack, again uttering the house-keeper's name, and in connection with it
a succession of harsh, abusive words, Jason looked at the young man with
approval, nay, almost tenderly.

The latter usually shouted a loud "Joy be with you!" whenever he met the
old man, but to-day answered his greeting only with a sorrowful nod and
low murmur.

The steward had stepped in front of him, laid his hard hand on the
donkey's head, and asked:

"Do you call your ass Semestre?" Mopsus blushed, and answered:

"In future I shall call all she-asses that, but the old Megaera
named this one Jason."

"Why, see," cried the steward, "how kindly the worthy woman remembers me!
But she, too, was not forgotten, for, whenever you lifted your stick, you
thought, I should suppose, of her."

"Indeed I did!" cried Mopsus; then, while stroking the stripes on
the donkey's flanks, added kindly:

"Poor Jason, you too have nothing for which to thank the old woman. If