THE ARGONAUTS
Harold, who was trying to climb on to the top of the sun-dial, having a cat-like fondness for the summit of things, started and fell prone, barking his chin and filling the pleasance with lamentation.
Medea skimmed the ground swallow-like, and in a moment was on her knees comforting him, wiping the dirt out of his chin with her own dainty handkerchief, and vocal with soft murmur of consolation.
'You needn't take on so about him,' I observed politely. 'He'll cry for just one minute, and then he'll be all right.'
My estimate was justified. At the end of his regulation time Harold stopped crying suddenly, like a clock that had struck its hour; and with a serene and cheerful countenance wriggled out of Medea's embrace, and ran for a stone to throw at an intrusive blackbird.
'O you boys!' cried Medea, throwing wide her arms with abandonment. 'Where have you dropped from? How dirty you are! I've been shut up here for a thousand years, and all that time I've never seen any one under a
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