rmas went shyly and timidly towards the court of Petrus' house, and his
embarrassment increased when he found himself in the hall of the stately
stone-house, which he had entered without let or hindrance, and did not
know which way to turn. There was no one there to direct him, and he
dared not go up the stairs which led to the upper story, although it
seemed that Petrus must be there. Yes, there was no doubt, for he heard
talking overhead and clearly distinguished the senator's deep voice.
Hermas advanced, and set his foot on the first step of the stairs; but he
had scarcely begun to go up with some decision, and feeling ashamed of
his bashfulness, when he heard a door fly open just above him, and from
it there poured a flood of fresh laughing children's voices, like a pent
up stream when the miller opens the sluice gate.

He glanced upwards in surprise, but there was no time for consideration,
for the shouting troop of released little ones had already reached the
stairs. In front of all hastened a beautiful young woman with golden
hair; she was laughing gaily, and held a gaudily-dressed doll high above
her head. She came backwards towards the steps, turning her fair face
beaming with fun and delight towards the children, who, full of their
longing, half demanding, half begging, half laughing, half crying,
shouted in confusion, "Let us be, Sirona," "Do not take it away again,
Sirona," "Do stay here, Sirona," again and again, "Sirona--Sirona."

A lovely six year old maiden stretched up as far as she could to reach
the round white arm that held the play-thing; with her left hand, which
was free, she gaily pushed away three smaller children, who tried to
cling to her knees and exclaimed, still stepping backwards, "No, no; you
shall not have it till it has a new gown; it shall be as long and as gay
as the Emperors's robe. Let me go, Caecilia, or you will fall down as
naughty Nikon did the other day."

By this time she had reached the steps; she turned suddenly, and with
outstretched arms she stopped the way of the narrow stair on which Hermas
was standing, gazing open-mouthed at the merry scene above his head. Just
as Sirona was preparing to run down, she perceived him and started; but
when she saw that the anchorite from pure embarrassment could find no
words in which to answer her question as to what he wanted, she laughed
heartily again and called out: "Come up, we shall not hurt you--shall we
children?"

Meanwhile H