"I am well; but from early morning I cannot rest. Perhaps it will seem a small thing to you--but to me it is a great one--I have lost my dog!" "The little white one? The one you call 'Solon'?" "Yes. Twice this week he has been lost and found. Those who believe in such things are right it seems when they tell you to beware of the third time. I am a fool, Kyr Themistocli, about this dog. I ... I love him as I would a man. Some tell me it is a sin to care so much for an animal. But when I think how she...." "It is no sin," said the old schoolmaster, "there are dogs that understand one better than men, and when old memories are mixed up with the caring ..." he broke off suddenly. "But do not vex your heart! You will find him." Nico Spinotti shook his head. "The 'boya' took him. He was out with my cook, and while she was in a shop the dog was picked up. She ran after the cart in vain; and then she returned weeping to the house to tell me. It was well she had that much sense at least." "But why are you staying here?" asked Kyr Themistocli excitedly. "Why do you not run to the Police Station? They will give him back to you. Even should there be any difficulty, if the dog was not muzzled, as it writes in the newspapers that they must be now, you can always pay the fine, and as much more as the 'boya' wants...." "My secretary went at once; and the man-servant also--if only they are in time! I could not go myself; I dared not! If I were to see the man who caught the dog in that net, and threw him into that vile cart ... I ... I could have killed him! I know myself; when I think of anyone ill-treating Solon or indeed any animal, I lose consciousness of what I do. Why, only last night I gave the boy who had tried to steal him such a beating that it will be days before he forgets it." "A boy stole him?" "Yes, a newspaper boy with fair hair; and those shoeblacks and newspaper boys are generally so honest; but this one it seems came to my house regularly with newspapers, and knew the dog; and someone, I suppose, must have paid him well to steal it. I found him just preparing to carry it off under his arm. Well, he got his year's beating from me any way, and I forbade him to show his face in this neighbourhood again. I told him I would give him to the police if he did!" The old man had risen from his chair and his blind eyes were wide open and staring. "You.... You ... hurt the lad!" he burst out wildly. "You drove him away! You.... You...." But his sentence was never finished. At that moment there was a patter of running feet at the entrance of the narrow street, a sudden flash of something white in the sun, and Solon, taking a flying leap from Aleko's arms, made a bee line for his master. There was a bewildered cry of,--"Solon!" and then a mingling of shrill barks of joy and of broken words:-- "Why, the poor little dog! Why, Solon! My poor one!" In the meantime Aleko went straight up to the old schoolmaster.