After Aleko had left Solon at the big house, it was already dark. He hurried down the Kiphissia Road and through the Square of the Constitution, thinking he would have more chance of selling the few papers he still held, if he went to school by that way. It was getting cooler, and the streets were filled with people pouring out of all quarters of the city to breathe the night air after the weariness of the day spent behind closed shutters. Crowded street cars and carriages crossed and recrossed, carrying family parties down to Phalerum and the sea. The little round tables at Yannaki's, Doree's, and Zacharato's were all occupied, in fact those of the latter had spread right out across the square. All around rose the hum of summer night noises, of music, of the cries of the café waiters, the tinkling of many glasses and spoons, and the distant whistle of the Kiphissia train. Groups of men lounged past, talking and laughing. A man in one of the groups beckoned to Aleko, a young man with a small dark moustache:-- "Here! Have you any newspapers left?" Aleko looked up into the pleasant, laughing eyes of his boxing master. "Oristé!"[9] he cried eagerly. "Certainly, all you want." "Ah, is it you, Aleko! Good evening to you! Well, give me the Hestia, the Astrapi, the Hesperini--and the Romios, if you have it." Then, when he had gathered them up, he asked laughingly:-- "Now, as we are old friends and I have bought so many newspapers, surely you will take off a discount for me! What shall I give you?" Aleko, being of pure Greek blood, answered in the good old Greek fashion:-- "Whatever you please to give." The young man laughed and held out a five lepta copper coin, the value of one newspaper alone. "Suppose then I please to give only this." Not a muscle moved in Aleko's face. "You shall give it," he answered, then taking the coin he dropped it into his pocket, and was turning away, when the young man called him back. "Here! Stop! Did you take it seriously?" and while he was searching for more coins, he asked, "Do you boys not have to account for all the papers you sell?" "Of course; the 'big one' keeps count of everything." "Well then, what would you have said when the 'big one' as you call him, found fifteen lepta too little?" "He would have found his money right." "How could he?" "I would have put it there from my supper money." The young man looked at Aleko rather curiously, and two of the other men who were with him laughed. The one of them, an older man, said:-- "This is an original little specimen!" and the other, an officer, asked:-- "And why should you be taking from your supper money to make this gentleman a present of three newspapers? Do you not think he is richer than you?"