When she reached the first houses of the village, she turned away from the sea and began climbing up a steep little street, threading her way between the small houses, disturbing flocks of gray and white pigeons who fluttered up and settled on the ledges of the low terraces, between pitchers of water and pots of sweet basil. She stepped carefully over the ropes of tethered goats, passing by the open doors of the big church, and stopping for a moment to admire a length of pink and white cotton stuff which hung outside Kyr Nicola's shop. If only, she thought, her new dress might have been made of that! But the brown dress which her mother used to wear on holidays, before her father died, was still quite good, and it would have been a sin to waste it; Kyra Sophoula had said so. Moreover she had made it too wide for Mattina, and with three tucks in it, so that it might last her for some time to come. Before one arrived at Yoryi's house, there was a whole street of low broad steps which Mattina descended slowly one by one, for her back was beginning to ache. When she reached the little blue-washed house she dumped down her load of sticks beside the oven in the courtyard with a great sigh of relief. She found Zacharia whimpering before a half-eaten "koulouri"--a sort of doughnut with a hole in the middle--which someone had amused himself by tying to a nail in the wall, so that it dangled just out of reach of the child's little arms. "'Attina! 'Attina!" he cried as soon as he saw her; "My koulou'i! My koulou'i!" She broke the string violently, and thrust the half-eaten koulouri into the child's outstretched hands, then turning angrily to three big girls who were seated laughing, on the wooden steps leading to the flat roof, she cried out:-- "What has the child done to you that you are forever tormenting him? A bad year to you!" But they only laughed the louder, and one of them called out:-- "Drink a little vinegar, it will calm your rage!" Mattina did not answer; she shouldered the water pitcher, took Zacharia by the hand, and went out again, out through the dark arch to the Market Square for water. "'Attina!" and there was still a little sob in poor Zacharia's voice. "Yes, my little bird." "My koulou'i is nearly finished." "Eat it slowly then," advised the big sister. "And if you only knew what a good thing I have for you to-morrow!" But to-morrow meant nothing to Zacharia. "What, 'Attina? What? Give it to me!" "Not now. To-morrow. Come then! Come and see all the little boats!" When they reached the square, Mattina sat down to rest for a moment on the deep stone trough built round the fountain under the old eucalyptus tree. Most of the women had already filled their red earthen pitchers and were carrying them away on their shoulders. Only one old woman was still leaning against the trunk of the tree, waiting for her pitcher to fill itself. As she saw Mattina she stepped forward.