A WONDER-BOOK
‘My dear Epimetheus,’ cried Pandora, ‘have you heard this little voice?’
‘Yes, to be sure I have,’ answered he, but in no very good-humour as yet. ‘And what of it?’
‘Shall I lift the lid again?’ asked Pandora.
‘Just as you please,’ said Epimetheus. ‘You have done so much mischief already, that perhaps you may as well do a little more. One other Trouble, in such a swarm as you have set adrift about the world, can make no very great difference.’
‘You might speak a little more kindly!’ murmured Pandora, wiping her eyes.
‘Ah, naughty boy!’ cried the little voice within the box, in an arch and laughing tone. ‘He knows he is longing to see me. Come, my dear Pandora, lift up the lid. I am in a great hurry to comfort you. Only let me have some fresh air, and you shall soon see that matters are not quite so dismal as you think them!’
‘Epimetheus,’ exclaimed Pandora, ‘come what may, I am resolved to open the box!’
‘And, as the lid seems very heavy,’ cried Epimetheus, running across the room, ‘I will help you!’
So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the lid. Out flew a sunny and smiling little personage, and hovered about the room, throwing a light wherever she went. Have you never made the sunshine dance into dark corners, by reflecting it from a bit of looking-glass? Well, so looked the winged cheerfulness of this fairy-like stranger, amid the gloom of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus, and laid the least touch of her finger on the inflamed spot where the Trouble had stung him, and
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