"It is not of any use," she said to herself, "It is but someone's old cup. But I shall take it home for the babycoula to play with. She will think it is nice." So she tucked it into her pocket and got up to go. Her ankle hurt but not so badly that she could not walk. She wet her kerchief and tied it around the swollen joint and climbed up the hill which she had rolled down so unexpectedly. At the top she stopped and called as loudly as she could, "Georgios, Georgios!"
An answering shout of "Zoe!" came from below and her heart gave a glad leap. She turned her steps downward and Marco met her ere she was half way down.
"Child, what are you doing here?" he asked.
"Is Georgios found? I came to seek him!" she cried.
"He was not lost, that bad boy!" said Marco. "When I reached home I found my mother disturbed in her mind because you had disappeared and the little girls said you had gone to the mountain to find Georgios. Him I found by the river fishing and he said that you had called but that he had not answered. He will answer the next time," and Marco's voice told Zoe that he had made it unpleasant for Georgios. "Then I came on to seek you. Poor child! you must have had a hard climb."
"Oh, I did not mind," said Zoe. "Only I fell and hurt my ankle. I am glad Georgios was not lost. He might have answered me, though," and her lip quivered.
"He was a bad boy," said Marco, "and did it just to tease you. Let me see your ankle. It is badly bruised, but not sprained, I think. Come, I will help you home," and he put his arm around her.
It took Zoe some time to get home for walking on the lame ankle tired her and often Marco stopped her to rest.
"What is it you have in your hand?" he asked her, as they sat down to rest beneath a giant fir.