“I shall have time, and I shall bring it when I come with the newspapers for the Spinotti house,” and without waiting for further objections he ran down the street and up the wider one, till he came to the railings of the Spinotti garden.
Anneza, leaning out of her kitchen window, was explaining something vehemently to the next-door cook.
“Have you found the dog?” asked Aleko.
“If only I could find him, I would give twenty drachmæ out of my wages, that I would! The master was like mad when he heard I had lost him; he says the dog must have been stolen, and he has gone now to put it in the newspapers.”
“Did he give it to you badly?” asked the next-door cook curiously.
Anneza became tearful.
“He scolded me,” she said, “till I have been trembling ever since.”
“He did well,” pronounced Aleko as he turned away, “if your head were not fixed on, you would lose it every day.”
“Wait a moment!” shouted Anneza. “Wait till I get the jam stick to you!” but Aleko was already out of sight.
When he got back to his cellar home he folded the left-over newspapers to be returned on the morrow, and looked doubtfully at his mattress; Andoni, the other boy, was already fast asleep in the farther corner. But it was stiflingly hot in the cellar and there was bright moonlight outside, so he sauntered up the steps again and looked about him. There were few passers-by, and the shadows of the houses lay in deep blue-black patches on the moonlit street.