"Yes," Petro's tone was respectful, but his eyes were dancing, "but Zoe is not a boy."
"That is true." The priest's face wore a puzzled look. He glanced at Zoe, now standing before him tear-stained and shame-faced; he looked at Petro. Then memory took the kind old priest back to the days when he himself had been the village mischief, and Petro met his eyes and found therein an answering gleam.
"You are a naughty boy!" said Papa Demetrios. "But since you have told the truth and not had the meanness to hide behind a girl, you shall not be punished this time. Tell your cousin that you are sorry for what you have done to her, and beware that you do not touch my rope again."
"Yes, your Grace," said the boy. "But why do you let your rope hang down just where any boy would want to ring it?"
"That I do not know," said the priest, with again the twinkle in his eye. "I suppose it is too much for meddlesome fingers. Hereafter we shall remedy that." So he cut the rope off so short that no one could reach it, and he made a pole with a hook in the end with which to reach it himself, which pole he kept in the priest's house, so that no boys rang the church bell thereafter. And people went back to their work, shaking their heads and saying, "What will become of Petro Averoff? He will grow up to be a vagabond." To which one answered,
"Doubtless he will go to America, so it will matter little!"
Aunt Angeliké was anything but pleased with Petro's escapade and said severely,
"You are indeed a naughty boy. You shall be punished by staying home tomorrow while I take Zoe to the currant picking."
"Oh, mother!" Petro's face fell.
"Oh, Aunt Angeliké!" cried Zoe. "Please let him go! I would not enjoy it without him. Besides—" she added in a whisper—"what do you suppose he would do in mischief if you left him behind?"