ould
not go there, for under it stood several beds on which lay pilgrims
who, here in the very dwelling of the divinity, hoped to be visited with
dreams which might give them an insight into futurity.

Klea's head was uncovered, and, fearing the heat of noon, she was about
to return into the door-keeper's house, when she saw a young white-robed
scribe, employed in the special service of Asclepiodorus, who came
across the court beckoning eagerly to her. She went towards him, but
before he had reached her he shouted out an enquiry whether her sister
Irene was in the gate-keeper's lodge; the high-priest desired to speak
with her, and she was nowhere to be found. Klea told him that a grand
lady from the queen's court had already enquired for her, and that the
last time she had seen her had been before daybreak, when she was going
to fill the jars for the altar of the god at the Well of the Sun.

"The water for the first libation," answered the priest, "was placed on
the altar at the right time, but Doris and her sister had to fetch it
for the second and third. Asclepiodorus is angry--not with you, for he
knows from Imhotep that you are taking care of a sick child--but with
Irene. Try and think where she can be. Something serious must have
occurred that the high-priest wishes to communicate to her."

Klea was startled, for she remembered Irene's tears the evening before,
and her cry of longing for happiness and freedom. Could it be that the
thoughtless child had yielded to this longing, and escaped without her
knowledge, though only for a few hours, to see the city and the gay life
there?

She collected herself so as not to betray her anxiety to the messenger,
and said with downcast eyes:

"I will go and look for her."

She hurried back into the house, once more looked to the sick child,
called his mother and showed her how to prepare the compresses, urging
her to follow Imhotep's directions carefully and exactly till she should
return; she pressed one loving kiss on little Philo's forehead--feeling
as she did so that he was less hot than he had been in the morning--and
then she left, going first to her own dwelling.

There everything stood or lay exactly as she had left it during the
night, only the golden jars were wanting. This increased Klea's alarm,
but the thought that Irene should have taken the precious vessels with
her, in order to sell them and to live on the proceeds, never once
entered her mind, for her s