She is ill--I had so much--" "Poor child," said the paraschites, stroking the boy's hair; "there-give it to Uarda." Scherau went up to the sick girl, knelt down by her, and whispered with streaming eyes: "Take it! It is good, and very sweet, and if I get another cake, and Hekt will let me out, I will bring it to you.
"Thank you, good little Scherau," said Uarda, kissing the child.

Then she turned to Pentaur and said: "For weeks he has had nothing but papyrus-pith, and lotus-bread, and now he brings me the cake which grandmother gave old Hekt yesterday." The child blushed all over, and stammered: "It is only half--but I did not touch it.

Your dog bit out this piece, and this." He touched the honey with the tip of his finger, and put it to his lips.
"I was a long time behind the reeds there, for I did not like to come out because of the strangers there." He pointed to Nebsecht and Pentaur.
"But now I must go home," he cried.
The child was going, but Pentaur stopped him, seized him, lifted him up in his arms and kissed him; saying, as he turned to Nebsecht: "They were wise, who represented Horus--the symbol of the triumph of good over evil and of purity over the impure--in the form of a child.
Bless you, my little friend; be good, and always give away what you have to make others happy.

It will not make your house rich--but it will your heart!" Scherau clung to the priest, and involuntarily raised his little hand to stroke Pentaur's cheek.

An unknown tenderness had filled his little heart, and he felt as if he must throw his arms round the poet's neck and cry upon his breast.
But Pentaur set him down on the ground, and he trotted down into the valley.