pper portion could be turned in any direction.
Klea from time to time applied it to the breast of the child, and, in
obedience to Imhotep's instructions, made the little one inhale the
steam that poured out of it.

"Has it had the soothing effect it ought to have?" asked the physician.

"Yes, indeed, I think so," replied Klea, "There is not so much noise in
the chest when the poor little fellow draws his breath."

The old man put his ear to the child's mouth, laid his hand on his brow,
and said:

"If the fever abates I hope for the best. This inhaling of steam is an
excellent remedy for these severe catarrhs, and a venerable one besides;
for in the oldest writings of Hermes we find it prescribed as an
application in such cases. But now he has had enough of it. Ah! this
steam--this steam! Do you know that it is stronger than horses or oxen,
or the united strength of a whole army of giants? That diligent enquirer
Hero of Alexandria discovered this lately.

"But our little invalid has had enough of it, we must not overheat him.
Now, take a linen cloth--that one will do though it is not very fine.
Fold it together, wet it nicely with cold water--there is some in that
miserable potsherd there--and now I will show you how to lay it on the
child's throat.

"You need not assure me that you understand me, Klea, for you have
hands--neat hands--and patience without end! Sixty-five years have I
lived, and have always had good health, but I could almost wish to be
ill for once, in order to be nursed by you. That poor child is well
off better than many a king's child when it is sick; for him hireling
nurses, no doubt, fetch and do all that is necessary, but one thing they
cannot give, for they have it not; I mean the loving and indefatigable
patience by which you have worked a miracle on this child's mind, and
are now working another on his body. Aye, aye, my girl; it is to you and
not me that this woman will owe her child if it is preserved to her.
Do you hear me, woman? and tell your husband so too; and if you do not
reverence Klea as a goddess, and do not lay your hands beneath her feet,
may you be--no--I will wish you no ill, for you have not too much of the
good things of life as it is!"

As he spoke the gate-keeper's wife came timidly up to the physician and
the sick child, pushed her rough and tangled hair off her forehead
a little, crossed her lean arms at full length behind her back,
and, looking down with out-stretc