A month in Argolis found Zoe rosy, happy and quite unlike the sad-faced little maid who had tended the babycoula in far-away Thessaly. Uncle Andreas soon went to sea again, taking Marco with him; but Aunt AngelikÉ was kindness itself and Zoe's cousin, a merry boy of ten, proved such a delightful playfellow that the two soon became fast friends.

Their home was on a pleasant village street, where a huge plane tree hundreds of years old shaded the little balcony which extended from the second story out over the street. Near-by was the village fountain, a meeting place for old and young, for all the water used for cooking had to be carried from the fountain in water-jars.

Aunt AngelikÉ was young and full of laughter. She was much younger than her husband, and seemed to Zoe almost like her cousin Maria. She entered into everything the children did, and added to their enjoyment by her pleasure in their happiness. She made play even of work, and Zoe enjoyed nothing more than the family washing-day. This occurred only once a month, but that was far oftener than many of their neighbours washed their household linen.

Aunt AngelikÉ went to the mountain stream which gurgled down to the sea over rocks and pebbles, clear and limpid, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds.

They washed beneath a huge plane tree, the largest one Zoe had ever seen, and about whose trunk she and Petro together with arms extended could not reach. The linen had been brought up the hill on the back of a little donkey which the children often rode. First Aunt AngelikÉ soaked the clothes in lye water, then boiled them and laid each piece upon the stones to be beaten with a paddle.

"Now, Zoe and Petro, it is your time to help," she said laughing. "Beat them until they are clean and white. Your uncle's fustanellas, Child, take great pains with them. Of all things they must be clean."

"I shall make them perfect," said Zoe, "and Marco's also." And she beat and paddled the skirts until they were as white as the snow on Mount Olympus.

"There, that will do. Now spread them out to dry," said Aunt AngelikÉ, and Zoe and Petro laid the clothes about on the grass and bushes, the fustanellas alone covering yards and yards of the green.

"Let us rest," said Petro, throwing himself down beneath the tree. "I am tired."

"You are a lazy one," said his mother, seating herself beside him. "Next you will want to eat."

"That I do," cried Petro, sitting up hastily and forgetting his fatigue. "What have you, little mother?"

"Now you are a greedy," said his mother, laughing at him.

"But tell me," he said coaxingly, laying a hand on her arm.

"Nay, Zoe is quiet and polite, she shall be helped first," said the mother, and she drew a basket of luncheon from its hiding-place within the hollow trunk of a tree. There was bread, cheese, olives and fresh mousmoula, the most delicious of Grecian fruits, yellow as gold, with four huge seeds within and a juice cool and refreshing. They ate with health and laughter for sauce, and then Zoe begged for a story. "Just one, my aunt, before we take a siesta."

"I shall tell you of the good Saint Philip," said the aunt, who was very pious and thought that children should always be told holy tales to make them think of good things.

"St. Philip was always very sorry for the poor. He was himself very good, and though he had once had many drachmas he had given away so much that he had hardly a lepta left. He had even given away his food, and kept for himself only a cow, living upon the milk to keep himself from starving. One night he slept and dreamed a strange dream. He thought that he went to heaven and that our Lord did not smile upon him. Instead he turned away his face. But the great St. Petro said, 'Our Lord, this is Felipo, lover of the poor. Wilt thou greet him?' 'He loved the poor, but himself he loved more,' said our Lord with sadness, and St. Philip awoke with a start. At that moment there came a loud 'moo!' from without his hut, and he jumped to his feet and said,

"'It is the cow! I have no need for a cow when God's poor starve! I will kill her and let the starving eat!' So with grief in his heart, for he loved the animal dearly, he slaughtered her and divided the meat among his poor. That night he went to bed hungry, for he had no milk for his supper, but his heart was full of joy, for he felt the satisfaction of those who 'give to the poor and lend to the Lord.'

"He slept without dreaming and was awakened in the morning by a familiar sound. It was the 'moo moo' of his cow without his door, and he said to himself, 'Of a truth I dream, my poor cow is dead!' but again he heard the call, 'Moo moo!' and he looked out of the window. There stood his friend and favourite, at the door of her little shed, awaiting her morning meal. He could not believe his eyes, but the cow was hungry and did not at all like being left to stand at the door until her master made up his mind that she was not a ghost. She stamped the ground with her foot and mooed again, this time very loud. 'It is indeed she,' cried the saint. 'Now is the good God good indeed! I have fed his poor and he has rewarded me by restoring life to my favourite. Always hereafter shall I believe in his mercy.'"

"Oh, what a nice story!" cried Zoe, but Petro said,

"If God could do anything, why didn't He keep the cow from being killed. It must have hurt her!"

"You are a heathen!" said his mother. "You talk like an unbelieving Turk! Since God can do anything He doubtless kept the knife from hurting her when she was killed. It is not well to talk so of the stories of the saints."

"I like stories of battles better," said Petro, still dissatisfied, but his mother said,

"I tell no more stories to boys who do not like holy things, and now it is siesta time." So they slept beneath the great tree, and all was still, save the splash of the waterfall and the hum of the bees, in the hearts of the scarlet poppies. When they awoke it was late in the afternoon and many of the clothes were already dry.

"Let us go down to the beach and fish!" said Petro.

"But you will fall in!" said his mother.

"Oh, no, Mother," said Petro. "But if I do it will not hurt."

"Wait a little and I will go with you, that at least I may be there to pull you out," said Aunt AngelikÉ, laughing. She had not great faith in her boy's promises, for she had lived with him for ten years and knew that he was always in head-first when there was any danger. Petro was a gay little fellow—happy and full of laughter, and he and Zoe played together always pleasantly. So they ran about under the trees while Aunt AngelikÉ sorted her linen into piles ready to pack upon the donkey's back for their return.

"We shall catch a fish and roast him for supper, then go back by moonlight," she said, always ready to give the children pleasure, and both thought the plan delightful.

"You can't catch me," shouted Petro as he darted away from Zoe, and she chased him about until both fell panting upon the grass.

"See that boat," said Zoe. "How pretty it looks! Its sails look like great wings spread over the sea. Look! It is coming here!"

"No," said Petro. "I think it will anchor and send in a boat. Yes, there come two men. They have a fishing-net set here and are coming to see what they have caught. See!"

Two sailors sprang from their boat on the beach and started to haul in a seine. Zoe gave one look at them and was off like an arrow from a bow, crying, "Marco! It is Marco!" Petro following not less quickly, calling,

"Father! We are here! Mother and I are here!" The two men turned in astonishment to see the two flying figures, and gay Uncle Andreas cried,

"Beware, Marco! The Turks are upon us!" As the two little folk hurled themselves into the arms awaiting them.

"Oh, Marco, my own dear Marco! I am so glad to see you! It is so long since you went away!" cried Zoe, while Petro said,

"Were you coming home tonight? What did you bring me?"

"We were coming home tonight to surprise you, but it seems we are the ones to be surprised," said his father. "How came you here?"

"Mother brought the washing and we have been here since morning," said Petro. "We hoped to catch a fish for our supper and walk home by moonlight."

"We shall do better than that," said his father, as his mother came hastily down the hill to greet them. "How would it please you to eat one of my fish, when we have cooked it, and then sail home with us in the boat?"

"Oh!" squealed Zoe.

"That will be fine!" cried Petro, but Aunt AngelikÉ said,

"The fish and the supper, yes—but what will we do with my white clothes and the donkey?"

"We shall send the donkey home on his four feet and the clothes on his back, both in charge of one of my sailors," laughed kind Uncle Andreas, and so it was settled.

They had a merry supper on the beach, and the fresh lithrini[22] made a delicious meal, roasted over a fire laid on the stones. Other good things were brought from the ship until Zoe declared she had never seen such a feast.

"Does she not look well, Marco?" said Aunt AngelikÉ, and Marco replied,

"Like a different child. Naughty Zoe, you did not like Thessaly!"

"But I like you," said Zoe sweetly, and Uncle Andreas said teasingly,

"Thessaly! Who could like Thessaly! It has been ruled by the Turks! Our Argolis has never known the heel of the Unspeakable!"

"Then it was not worth their wanting," said Marco in return. "And Thessaly has cast them out!"

"Do not quarrel," said Aunt AngelikÉ. "It is all our own land and the sea is always ours."

So they started homeward over the dancing waves, blue as heaven and as peaceful, and Zoe's little heart was filled to the brim with happiness.