"Oh!"
"She wasn't married, the man said, and was to be had for the asking. I hate fat women almost as much as I hate fat men."
Nicholas had strolled out of his hut, and was standing behind the boys as they talked.
"Now look at Uncle Nicholas, Yanni," said Mitsos, still unconscious of his presence, "he will be some twelve good inches taller than you, and forty years older; but I doubt if you could tie his trousers-strings."
Nicholas laughed.
"I can do it myself, little Mitsos," he said. "Come in, you two; there is work forward."
Yanni sprang up and stepped into his shoe, forgetting the blister.
"A journey," he said, "for Mitsos and me? Oh, Mitsos, it is good."
"Yanni cannot walk," said Mitsos; "he has a blister, and must needs be carried like a scented woman."
"A blister?" asked Nicholas. "Don't think about it."