"I will come every day." Then Aleko got up and began carrying the plates off the table into the kitchen at the back. He returned with a lighted candle. "Now," he said, "I will tidy up a little so that the cross woman will not have so many words to say to-morrow. As for her floor ..." and he looked at it with disgust, "it is so dusty that anyone who walks over it will take dust away instead of adding any! Does she come every day?" he asked suddenly. "Yes, she cleans and cooks for me." "And you pay her?" "Naturally." "Kyr Themistocli, you must find another woman who will have a little conscience; this one, because you cannot see ... she lets you live in dirt." He took up the cover and shook it vigorously out of the window. "But what dust! It is a sin to take money for such dirty work! Ah," he continued, polishing the window panes with a piece of torn newspaper, "you ought to have my mother to work for you! Then you would see what your house would be like!" "Your mother is a good housewife?" "She is the best in Megaloupolis; all say it. What would she say if she saw this room? And my clothes also," he added, looking at them ruefully. "But when one works, what can one do?" When he had finished, he blew out the candle. "Since it is useless to you," he remarked, "why should it burn in vain?" Then he came close to the old man and laid his hand on his knee. "I thank you for the good food. To-morrow, then, I shall come at three." The old man stood up and felt for Aleko's head. "I want to see how tall you are. Ah, you are well above my shoulder, that is a good height for twelve. Are you strong? Do you have gymnastics at the Parnassos?" "Yes, in the square outside. I know all the movements; and there is one member--not the one who comes to the lessons, another who has been abroad--and he is teaching us boxing." "Boxing?" echoed the old man. This was new for him. "It is how to fight with your hands; and he says that I shall learn well and soon." "That is not real learning," objected Kyr Themistocli, "that is play." "I do not know," answered Aleko, "but it is very useful for me, because there are some of the boys who will not understand things unless you explain with your fists. Now I go," he added. "I must be at the school at eight o'clock. Good night, master." "Good night, my child." But from the door he rushed back again. "What is that statue in the Zappion Gardens, of the man who stands at the woman's knee; she who is putting a crown of leaves on his head?" Kyr Themistocli put his hand to his forehead in a bewildered fashion. "At the Zappion? A crown of leaves? Oh, I see; you mean Byron. Well, he was a great poet--a stranger--and because he left his own country and came and fought for us against the Turks, and helped us, and sang about us, and loved us, the woman, who means Greece, is crowning him with laurels." "Is it like when you take your hat off--to the flag--to show respect?"