bronze statues. In the center stood a magnificent altar to the twelve
Gods of Olympus, whom the people of Hellas believed to be the greatest of
their many Gods. There were temples opening on the Agora, and beyond
the temples there were the hills of Athens, with the Sacred Mount of the
Acropolis, the holiest of all holy places, bounding it on the south.

Melas had seen all these sights before, but to the Twins it was like
stepping right into the middle of an enchanted world. Melas took them
each by the hand, and found an out-of-the-way corner near a stall where
young girls were selling wreaths, and there they ate their luncheon,
while they watched the people swarming about them.

The flowers-sellers, the bread-women, and some flute-girls were almost
the only women in sight, but the whole Agora was full of men. There were
fathers of families buying provisions for the day. Each was followed by a
slave with a basket, for no Athenian gentleman would carry his own
packages. There were always slaves to do that. There were grave men in
long cloak-like garments with fillets around their heads who walked back
and forth talking together. There were boys, followed by their
"pedagogues," old slaves who carried their books for them, and saw to it
that their young charges got into as little mischief as possible, as they
went about the streets.

Suddenly at some signal which neither Melas nor the Twins saw, the whole
crowd began to move toward the south.

"Where are they going?" asked Dion.

"Listen to that little Spartan savage," said one of the wreath-sellers,
laughing. "He doesn't even know it's the regular festival of Athena. Run