So it came to pass, that when the doctor was being rowed across the bay the next morning, in the boat that was taking him to the steamer, the Four and Pavlo stood all together on the little landing stage and waved good-by to him.
They waved and waved, till he was a speck in the blue distance, and then they turned and ran with cries and whoops of joy, back into the pine woods, back to the sea, back to the hillside, back for a whole long summer to all the manifold delights of the Red House on the Hill.
ALEXANDER THE SON OF PHILIP
I
On a very hot morning in May, at the corner of the Hotel de la Grande Bretagne, in the Square of the Constitution, in Athens, a dirty little boy with a sheaf of unsold newspapers under his arm was sitting on a shoeblack’s box, alternately munching a piece of bread and wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
Another boy, not so dirty, stood beside him, with one foot on the edge of the box, watching the people in the square. He was fair for a Greek boy, with light hair which showed through the many holes of his cloth cap.
There was a tug at his ragged tunic:—