"You must not thank us," said the gray-haired admiral standing cap in hand, before her. "We did nothing but arrive at a lucky moment, and bring the children home. It is another you must thank, another who deserves your deepest gratitude; one who by his presence of mind and coolness saved them all in a moment of great danger, ... of very real danger. This is the boy!" he said, putting his hand on Pavlo's shoulder. "This is a real Zamana, who when he grows up will be an honor to his glorious name! And in the meantime I for one, am proud to know him!" Oh, how they shouted for him when they heard it all! And while the mother of the Four was holding him very tight to her, and while the master of the house and Pavlo's uncle were shaking each other's hand as though they would never stop, Deko, who had been set free, limped nimbly down all the steps, and leaped upon Chryseis, and licked her hands, and whined for joy, and caught hold of her skirt and shook it so hard that he tore it. But he was forgiven that time. And joy followed for Pavlo as well as glory, for though his uncle was obliged to leave for Athens the next day, no one in the Red House felt as if Pavlo could be spared. So his uncle was persuaded to leave him behind; to leave him indefinitely, till it should be autumn, and school time, and everyone returned to town. So it came to pass, that when the doctor was being rowed across the bay the next morning, in the boat that was taking him to the steamer, the Four and Pavlo stood all together on the little landing stage and waved good-by to him. They waved and waved, till he was a speck in the blue distance, and then they turned and ran with cries and whoops of joy, back into the pine woods, back to the sea, back to the hillside, back for a whole long summer to all the manifold delights of the Red House on the Hill. ALEXANDER THE SON OF PHILIP I On a very hot morning in May, at the corner of the Hotel de la Grande Bretagne, in the Square of the Constitution, in Athens, a dirty little boy with a sheaf of unsold newspapers under his arm was sitting on a shoeblack's box, alternately munching a piece of bread and wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Another boy, not so dirty, stood beside him, with one foot on the edge of the box, watching the people in the square. He was fair for a Greek boy, with light hair which showed through the many holes of his cloth cap. There was a tug at his ragged tunic:-- "Aleko! Aleko! You are not listening!" "What is it? I hear." But he did not look down at the grubby little fellow who continued sniffing:--