"Kyr Themistocli," he began, "your coffee is all spilt. It fell from my hand and the bag burst, but this afternoon...." But the blind man did not wait to hear what was to happen that afternoon, his arms groped for the boy and finding him, clung about his neck, and the old head fell forward on Aleko's shoulder. "I thought I had lost you.... I thought that you would never come back! My boy!... My son!..." The banker looked from the old man to the boy, with bewildered eyes. "Why?" he gasped, "I never knew.... Is he yours?" "Mine? Makari!" exclaimed Kyr Themistocli. Now when a real Greek says "Makari," it means so many things that no single word in any other language can translate it. It means, "If only it could be so!" it means, "I could wish for nothing better!" it means, "It is too good to come true!" it means, "Such a thing would be perfect happiness!" It means all this and much more. Some think the word a corruption of "makarios," meaning blessed, some believe it was taken from old Italian. It is not a dictionary word, but it expresses so much that the old schoolmaster dropped into common speech and said "Makari," with all his heart. "But then ..." said Nico Spinotti looking from one to the other, "I do not understand. How came the dog here? Is this the boy...?" Kyr Themistocli left his hand on Aleko's shoulder, and drew himself up to his full height. "Yes," he said, "this is the boy you ill-treated, whom you called a thief; and it is he, I am sure, who has saved your dog and brought him back to you. Tell us, Aleko--what happened?" "I saw the 'boya,'" related Aleko, "pick up the dog. It was while Anneza, who never knows what is being done around her, was in the shop; I ran after him but he drove me off with his big whip; so I took the street car to make more haste, and went down to the Central Police Station; there, a boy told me where the 'boya' takes all the dogs after they are counted, far down the Piræus Road, to a 'room that kills.' So I went there and found the place and waited for the cart. When it came I told the man that the dog was his ..." pointing to Spinotti, "and that he would pay him well, but he would not listen. I asked him to bring it up himself if he did not believe me, or, to wait till noon or even for an hour ... and he ... he ... jeered at me." "And did you not call some one of the police?" asked Kyr Themistocli. "No," said Aleko, and he laughed a little, "I remembered what the gentleman at the Parnassos told us: that if you have the science and the other has not, you need not fear one twice your size, so I gave him the straight blow from the shoulder under the chin, the one that makes you see stars." Nico Spinotti laughed out delightedly. "Bravo! And did he see them?" "Yes," said Aleko quietly, "because afterwards, he lay in the dust and saw nothing." "And then?" "Then I opened the cart and let all the dogs out." "What ... all?"