and look inside where you will only see the wall. No wonder you can't
work."

He jumped up quickly, raised his stool, and was in the act of turning it
round, giving a final glance through the window before he began to work
in earnest, when he stopped short and set down the stool again.

"There's somebody coming along the road," he said. "Who's he? Dressed
just like father, in his long, white toga. Wonder where he's going, and
who he is? Some traveller, I suppose, seeing the country and enjoying
himself."

The boy stood watching the stranger for a few moments.

"Why, where can he be going?" he said. "That path only leads here and
to our fields. He can't be coming here, because nobody ever comes to
see us, and father doesn't seem to have any friends. Perhaps he wants
to see Serge about buying some pigs or corn, or to sell some young
goats? Yes, that's it, I should think. He wants to sell something.
No; it can't be that; he doesn't look the sort of man. Look at that
smooth-shaven face and short-cut hair. He seems quite a patrician, just
like father. What can he want? Here, how stupid!" cried the boy, as he
saw the stranger stop short a little distance from the villa front and
begin to look about him as if admiring the beauty of the place and the
distant scene. "I know; he's a traveller, and he's lost his way."

Excited by his new thought, Marcus hurried out and down the garden,
catching the attention of the stranger at once, who smiled as he looked
with the eyes of curiosity at the bright, frank lad, while he took out a
handkerchief and stood wiping his dewy face.

"Lost your way?" cried Marcus.

"Well, not quite," was the reply; "but I know very little of these
parts."

"I do," said Marcus, "laughing always, and have. I'll show you if you
tell me where you want to go."

"Thank you," said the stranger, gravely and quietly; and the boy thought
to himself once more that he was no dealer or trader, but some patrician
on his travels, and he noted more particularly the clear skin, and
clean-cut features of a man thoughtful and strong of brain, who spoke
quietly, but in the tones of one accustomed to command.

"You have a beautiful place here, my boy," he continued, as he looked
round and seemed to take in everything; "fields, woodlands, garden.
Fruit too--vines and figs. An attractive house too. The calm and quiet
of the country--a tired man could live very happily here."

"Yes, of course," crie