ossom behind, and were
now walking along a grassy table-land where flocks of goats were
feeding. The goatherds, picturesque little boys dressed in sheepskin
coats and soft felt hats, with brown eyes and thick brown curls, were
amusing themselves by playing on reed pipes. They recalled the Idylls of
Theocritus, and might almost have been products of the fourth century
B. C. instead of the twentieth century A. D. The wild flowers that grew
in this plain were gorgeous. There were anemones of all kinds, scarlet,
purple, pale pink, and white: irises of many colors, blue pimpernel,
yellow salvia, violet grape hyacinths, and clumps of small white
narcissus. Above all rose the splendid pale pink blossoms of the
asphodel, a striking feature of a Sicilian landscape.

The Ingletons ran about in greatest delight, picking handfuls of what
were to them beautiful garden flowers.

"It's a moot point whether Proserpine was gathering narcissus or
asphodel when Pluto ran away with her," declared Mr. Stacey, offering
Lilias a bouquet which a Greek nymph might have been pleased to accept.
"I incline to asphodel myself, because of its immortal significance. It
gives an added meaning to the myth."

"What is the story exactly?" asked Dulcie. "Do tell it, please!"

"Yes, do!" begged all the children, crowding round Mr. Stacey. "We want
to hear your English story!"

"It's not an English one, but a very old Greek one. Shall we rest on
this wall while I tell it? Luigia shall come on my knee. Yes, there's
room for Pepino too, and Gaspare and Vincent may sit next to me. Well,
in the old Golden Age, when the world was young, Ceres, the Goddess of
the Harvest, who gave all the fruits of earth to men, had a beautiful
daughter named Proserpine, or, as the Greeks called her, Persephone. She
made Sicily her place of residence, and she and her nymphs used to
delight themselves with its flowery meadows and limpid streams, and
beautiful views. One day she and her companions were wandering in the
plain of Enna, gathering flowers, when there suddenly appeared the god
Pluto, king of Hades, the regions of the dead. Falling in love with
beautiful Proserpine, he seized her, and forced her to get into his
chariot. She screamed to her maidens, but they could not help her, and
Pluto carried her off. With his trident he struck a hole in the ground,
so that chariot and horses fell through into Hades, of which place
Proserpine became the queen. Now Ceres did not kn