The Junior Classics, vol 7 | Page 3

she said, "to take the clay and work in into forms?
Not everyone could do that--could you do it?"

Phidias laughed.
"Perhaps not so well as your father," he answered kindly. "Still, I can
do it."
A sudden thought struck Iris.
"Perhaps you would help father?" she said eagerly. "Ah! but I ought not
to have said that."
"Perhaps I can help him," replied Phidias good-naturedly. "Anyway,
take me to him."
She led him through some side streets into the poorest parts of the city,
and stopped before a little window, where a few roughly-wrought
images and vases were exposed to view. She beckoned to him to follow
her, and opening the door, crept gently into a room which served as
their workshop and dwelling-place. Phidias saw a man stretched out on
a couch at the farther end of the room, near a bench where many
images and pots of all sorts lay unfinished.
"This is our home," whispered Iris proudly, "and that is my father
yonder."
The image-maker looked up and called for Iris.
"I am so faint, child," he murmured. "If I could only become strong
again I could get back to my work. It is so hard to lie here and die."
Phidias bent over him.
"You shall not die," he said, "if money can do you any good. I met your
little daughter, and she told me that you were an image-maker; and that
interested me, because I, too, can make images, though perhaps not as
well as you. Still, I thought I should like to come and see you and help
you; and if you will let me, I will try and make a few images for you,
so that your daughter may go out and sell them, and bring you home
money. And meanwhile, she shall fetch you some food to nourish you."

Then he turned to Iris, and putting some coins into her hands bade her
go out and bring what she thought fit. She did not know how to thank
him, but hurried away on her glad errand, and Phidias talked kindly to
his fellow-worker, and then, throwing aside his cloak, sat down at the
bench and busied himself with modelling the clay.
It was so different from his ordinary work that he could not help
smiling.
"This is rather easier," he thought to himself, "than carving from the
marble a statue of Athena. What a strange occupation!" Nevertheless,
he was so interested in modelling the quaint little images that he did not
perceive that Iris had returned, until he looked up, and saw her standing
near him, watching him with wonder, which she could not conceal.
"Oh, how clever!" she cried. "Father, if you could only see what he is
doing!"
"Nay, child," said the sculptor, laughing; "get your father his food, and
leave me to my work. I am going to model a little image of the goddess
Athena, for I think the folk will like to buy that, since that rogue
Phidias has set up his statue of her in the Parthenon."
"Phidias, the prince of sculptors!" said the image-maker. "May the gods
preserve his life; for he is the greatest glory of all Athens!"
"Ay," said Iris, as she prepared her father's food, "that is what we all
call him--the greatest glory of all Athens."
"We think of him," said Aristæus, feebly, "and that helps us in our
work. Yes, it helps even us poor image-makers. When I saw the
beautiful Athena I came home cheered and encouraged. May Phidias be
watched over and blessed all his life!"
The tears came into the eyes of Phidias as he bent over his work; it was
a pleasure to him to think that his fame gained for him a resting-place
of love and gratitude in the hearts of the poorest citizens of Athens. He
valued this tribute of the image-maker far more than the praises of the

rich and great. Before he left, he saw that both father and daughter were
much refreshed by the food which his bounty had given to them, and he
bade Aristæus be of good cheer, because he would surely regain his
health and strength.
"And because you love your art," he said, "I shall be a friend to you and
help you. And I shall come again to-morrow and do some work for
you--that is to say, if you approve of what I have already done, and
then Iris will be able to go out and sell the figures."
He hastened away before they were able to thank him, and he left them
wondering who this new friend could be. They talked of him for a long
time, of his kindness and his skill; and Aristæus dreamt that night about
the stranger who had come to work