"I don't know. They are always well done. The Capsina is excepted; she can do everything." Suleima could not keep the corners of her mouth from breaking down, and next moment she burst out laughing. "It was she did who it," she said; "I swear to you it was she." Mitsos had half slipped off the shirt, but on it went again in a twinkling. "It is not badly mended," said Suleima, still laughing, "but I could do it better. Take another one, Mitsos. I will mend this again. Ah, it is less good than I thought. See how big and bad are those stitches. Oh, it is shocking! Off with it! I will not have for a husband one they would think was a beggar." Mitsos looked at her darkly and sideways. "This, no doubt, is the best way to mend a shirt, though I know nought of shirt-mending," he said. "Do not be too proud to take example, Suleima. See how fine and big are the stitches. Why, she would mend ten shirts while you mended one." "Even so," said Suleima; "indeed, if she mended a dozen while I did one, it would not surprise me, or more than that even. And see how convenient on a hot day like this; the wind will blow coolly on your arm through the stitches." Mitsos broke out laughing. "She shall see me in it," he cried. "And, oh little wife, I am pleased to be home again. Dust and hot wind were the drink in the Larissa, so see that there is wine to fill even me. Oh, I love wine!" he cried. "Ah, it is for the wine alone you would be home again," said Suleima, with the light of love returned in her eyes. Mitsos bent down from his great height, and put his face to hers. "Yes, for the wine alone," he said, softly, "the wine of many things. And are you not wine to my soul, my own dear one?" Soon after they had dinner, and, dinner finished, Mitsos set off into Nauplia. The _Revenge_ was fretting at her anchor in the land-breeze as a horse, eager to be off, plays with its bridle, but close under the fort where Hastings and Hane had fired the incombustible balls he saw the Capsina's boat, a light caique, in which she sailed on her hurricane errands when in port, which would go like a fish if there was wind, and could be pulled by one man. Even Mitsos, used as he was to over-canvassed boats, used to feel certain qualms when the little cockleshell, with its tower of sail, was scudding through a broken sea. But the Capsina, knowing this, used to watch his face for any sign of apprehension, till he, seeing her, would exclaim: "It is as a bird with wings and no body, and that is not the safer sort of bird; and oh, Capsina, drowning is a cold manner of death. Oh yes, hoist more sail, by all means, and I shall pray the while."