through one of the entrances at the side, an audience
of white sheep. They overspread the stage, cropping as they went.
They climbed the green encircling seats, leaping up or down, where a
softer tuft of grass invited. They broke the dreamy silence with the
muffled sound of their hoofs, and an occasional bleat.

The girl knew them now. She had seen before the brown-faced twins,
both wearing tiny horns; they always kept together. She knew the great
white ewe with a blue ribbon on her neck, and the huge ram with twisted
horns that made her half afraid. Would he mind Scotch plaid, she
wondered, as he raised his head and eyed her? She sat alert, ready for
swift flight up the slope behind her in case of attack, but he turned
to his pasture in the pit with the air of one ready to waive trifles,
and the girl leaned back again.

When Apollo, the keeper of sheep, entered, Daphne received his greeting
with no surprise: even if he had come without these forerunners she
would have known that he was near. It was she who broke the silence as
he approached.

"A theatre seems a singularly appropriate place for you and your
flock," she remarked. "You make a capital actor."

There was no laughter in his eyes to-day and he did not answer. A
wistful look veiled the triumphant gladness of his face.

"They didn't play pastorals in olden time, did they?" asked Daphne.

"No," he answered, "they lived them. When they had forgotten how to do
that they began to act."

He took a flute from his pocket and began to play. A cry rang out
through the gladness of the notes, and it brought tears to the girl's
eyes. He stopped, seeing them there, and put the flute back into his
pocket.

"Did you take my advice the other day?" he asked.

"The advice was very general," said Daphne. "I presume an oracle's
always is. No, I did not follow it."

"Antigone, Antigone," he murmured.

"Why Antigone?" demanded the girl.

"Because your duty is dearer to you than life, and love."

"Please go down there," said the girl impetuously, "and play Antigone
for me. Make me see it and feel it. I have been sitting here for an
hour wishing that I could realize here a tragedy of long ago."

He bowed submissively.

"Commands from Caesar's seat must always be obeyed," he observed. "Do
you know Greek, Antigone?"

She nodded.

"I know part of this play by heart," she faltered. "My father taught
me Greek words when I was small enough to ride his