"I was late because I was watching _him_," Lucius nodded his head
toward the door.

"Who? the master? Surely thou wouldst not."

"Be not so hasty, Lidia. It was not the master, but Alyrus."

"Oh! he is worth watching," responded wise and observant Lidia.

She was little thing, in spite of her twenty years, with a small face,
old in anxiety, but sparkling with vivacity. Lucius had said sometimes
that her eyes talked, they varied so with her different moods. She
petted and humored her father in an amusingly maternal way, and
carried the cares of his poor home in her heart.

"I believe it. To-night, he has been for an hour at the temple in the
Forum, and it bodes little good. What has he to do with the priests of
Jupiter? I trust not one of them, not one. It means some evil to this
dwelling."

Lidia's eyes grew anxious.

"I fear," she began then paused. She had learned that while her father
was apt in tracing information, he was not to be relied on in moments
when delicate problems were to be solved. Her own brain was much more
clear. "I will watch," she added. "Go home now, dear father and get
thy rest, for our God is ever near us. No harm can really destroy us.
It can only touch our bodies, not our souls, as the Great Teacher
saith."