CHAPTER VIIIBY THE SEA

A monthin Argolis found Zoe rosy, happy and quite unlike the sad-faced little maid who had tended the babycoula in far-away Thessaly. Uncle Andreas soon went to sea again, taking Marco with him; but Aunt Angeliké was kindness itself and Zoe's cousin, a merry boy of ten, proved such a delightful playfellow that the two soon became fast friends.

Their home was on a pleasant village street, where a huge plane tree hundreds of years old shaded the little balcony which extended from the second story out over the street. Near-by was the village fountain, a meeting place for old and young, for all the water used for cookinghad to be carried from the fountain in water-jars.

people beneath a tree donkey in foreground"THEY WASHED BENEATH A HUGE PLANE TREE."

"THEY WASHED BENEATH A HUGE PLANE TREE."

Aunt Angeliké was young and full of laughter. She was much younger than her husband, and seemed to Zoe almost like her cousin Maria. She entered into everything the children did, and added to their enjoyment by her pleasure in their happiness. She made play even of work, and Zoe enjoyed nothing more than the family washing-day. This occurred only once a month, but that was far oftener than many of their neighbours washed their household linen.

Aunt Angeliké went to the mountain stream which gurgled down to the sea over rocks and pebbles, clear and limpid, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds.

They washed beneath a huge plane tree, the largest one Zoe had ever seen, and about whose trunk she and Petro together with arms extended could not reach. The linen had beenbrought up the hill on the back of a little donkey which the children often rode. First Aunt Angeliké soaked the clothes in lye water, then boiled them and laid each piece upon the stones to be beaten with a paddle.

"Now, Zoe and Petro, it is your time to help," she said laughing. "Beat them until they are clean and white. Your uncle'sfustanellas, Child, take great pains with them. Of all things they must be clean."

"I shall make them perfect," said Zoe, "and Marco's also." And she beat and paddled the skirts until they were as white as the snow on Mount Olympus.

"There, that will do. Now spread them out to dry," said Aunt Angeliké, and Zoe and Petro laid the clothes about on the grass and bushes, thefustanellasalone covering yards and yards of the green.

"Let us rest," said Petro, throwing himself down beneath the tree. "I am tired."

"You are a lazy one," said his mother, seating herself beside him. "Next you will want to eat."

"That I do," cried Petro, sitting up hastily and forgetting his fatigue. "What have you, little mother?"

"Now you are a greedy," said his mother, laughing at him.

"But tell me," he said coaxingly, laying a hand on her arm.

"Nay, Zoe is quiet and polite, she shall be helped first," said the mother, and she drew a basket of luncheon from its hiding-place within the hollow trunk of a tree. There was bread, cheese, olives and freshmousmoula, the most delicious of Grecian fruits, yellow as gold, with four huge seeds within and a juice cool and refreshing. They ate with health and laughter for sauce, and then Zoe begged for a story. "Just one, my aunt, before we take a siesta."

"I shall tell you of the good Saint Philip," said the aunt, who was very pious and thought that children should always be told holy tales to make them think of good things.

"St. Philip was always very sorry for the poor. He was himself very good, and though he had once had manydrachmashe had given away so much that he had hardly aleptaleft. He had even given away his food, and kept for himself only a cow, living upon the milk to keep himself from starving. One night he slept and dreamed a strange dream. He thought that he went to heaven and that our Lord did not smile upon him. Instead he turned away his face. But the great St. Petro said, 'Our Lord, this is Felipo, lover of the poor. Wilt thou greet him?' 'He loved the poor, but himself he loved more,' said our Lord with sadness, and St. Philip awoke with a start. At that moment there came a loud 'moo!' from without his hut, and he jumped to his feet and said,

"'It is the cow! I have no need for a cow when God's poor starve! I will kill her and let the starving eat!' So with grief in his heart, for he loved the animal dearly, he slaughtered her and divided the meat among his poor. That night he went to bed hungry, for he had no milk for his supper, but his heart was full of joy, for he felt the satisfaction of those who 'give to the poor and lend to the Lord.'

"He slept without dreaming and was awakened in the morning by a familiar sound. It was the 'moo moo' of his cow without his door, and he said to himself, 'Of a truth I dream, my poor cow is dead!' but again he heard the call, 'Moo moo!' and he looked out of the window. There stood his friend and favourite, at the door of her little shed, awaiting her morning meal. He could not believe his eyes, but the cow was hungry and did not at all like being left to stand at the door until her master made up his mind that she was nota ghost. She stamped the ground with her foot and mooed again, this time very loud. 'It is indeed she,' cried the saint. 'Now is the good God good indeed! I have fed his poor and he has rewarded me by restoring life to my favourite. Always hereafter shall I believe in his mercy.'"

"Oh, what a nice story!" cried Zoe, but Petro said,

"If God could do anything, why didn't He keep the cow from being killed. It must have hurt her!"

"You are a heathen!" said his mother. "You talk like an unbelieving Turk! Since God can do anything He doubtless kept the knife from hurting her when she was killed. It is not well to talk so of the stories of the saints."

"I like stories of battles better," said Petro, still dissatisfied, but his mother said,

"I tell no more stories to boys who do notlike holy things, and now it is siesta time." So they slept beneath the great tree, and all was still, save the splash of the waterfall and the hum of the bees, in the hearts of the scarlet poppies. When they awoke it was late in the afternoon and many of the clothes were already dry.

"Let us go down to the beach and fish!" said Petro.

"But you will fall in!" said his mother.

"Oh, no, Mother," said Petro. "But if I do it will not hurt."

"Wait a little and I will go with you, that at least I may be there to pull you out," said Aunt Angeliké, laughing. She had not great faith in her boy's promises, for she had lived with him for ten years and knew that he was always in head-first when there was any danger. Petro was a gay little fellow—happy and full of laughter, and he and Zoe played together always pleasantly. So they ran about under the treeswhile Aunt Angeliké sorted her linen into piles ready to pack upon the donkey's back for their return.

"We shall catch a fish and roast him for supper, then go back by moonlight," she said, always ready to give the children pleasure, and both thought the plan delightful.

"You can't catch me," shouted Petro as he darted away from Zoe, and she chased him about until both fell panting upon the grass.

"See that boat," said Zoe. "How pretty it looks! Its sails look like great wings spread over the sea. Look! It is coming here!"

"No," said Petro. "I think it will anchor and send in a boat. Yes, there come two men. They have a fishing-net set here and are coming to see what they have caught. See!"

Two sailors sprang from their boat on the beach and started to haul in a seine. Zoe gave one look at them and was off like an arrowfrom a bow, crying, "Marco! It is Marco!" Petro following not less quickly, calling,

"Father! We are here! Mother and I are here!" The two men turned in astonishment to see the two flying figures, and gay Uncle Andreas cried,

"Beware, Marco! The Turks are upon us!" As the two little folk hurled themselves into the arms awaiting them.

"Oh, Marco, my own dear Marco! I am so glad to see you! It is so long since you went away!" cried Zoe, while Petro said,

"Were you coming home tonight? What did you bring me?"

"We were coming home tonight to surprise you, but it seems we are the ones to be surprised," said his father. "How came you here?"

"Mother brought the washing and we have been here since morning," said Petro. "We hoped to catch a fish for our supper and walk home by moonlight."

"We shall do better than that," said his father, as his mother came hastily down the hill to greet them. "How would it please you to eat one of my fish, when we have cooked it, and then sail home with us in the boat?"

"Oh!" squealed Zoe.

"That will be fine!" cried Petro, but Aunt Angeliké said,

"The fish and the supper, yes—but what will we do with my white clothes and the donkey?"

"We shall send the donkey home on his four feet and the clothes on his back, both in charge of one of my sailors," laughed kind Uncle Andreas, and so it was settled.

They had a merry supper on the beach, and the freshlithrini[22]made a delicious meal, roasted over a fire laid on the stones. Other good things were brought from the ship until Zoe declared she had never seen such a feast.

"Does she not look well, Marco?" said Aunt Angeliké, and Marco replied,

"Like a different child. Naughty Zoe, you did not like Thessaly!"

"But I like you," said Zoe sweetly, and Uncle Andreas said teasingly,

"Thessaly! Who could like Thessaly! It has been ruled by the Turks! Our Argolis has never known the heel of the Unspeakable!"

"Then it was not worth their wanting," said Marco in return. "And Thessaly has cast them out!"

"Do not quarrel," said Aunt Angeliké. "It is all our own land and the sea is always ours."

So they started homeward over the dancing waves, blue as heaven and as peaceful, and Zoe's little heart was filled to the brim with happiness.

Therewas no lack of work in the little house beneath the plane tree. Aunt Angeliké was a busy housewife and cared not at all for drones in her hive. She herself worked, and those with her must work too, but she had a happy fashion of making work seem like play. She knew how to spin and to weave both cloth and carpet, so her loom was kept busy with its cheerful whirring. She also sewed and embroidered, and all this useful handiwork she taught to Zoe.

"Soon it will be fall, and you will go to school," she said. "Now is the time to learn things of the house. Girls should not learn too much of books. It is not good for them.I knew a girl who could read hard books with very long words, and what came of it? It made her no fairer to look upon, and her father had to give a large dowry to get her married. Often I saw her at midday with a book in her hand and the house not half neat. Do you think it pleased her husband? His time was spent in the coffee-house, where it was pleasant and people talked instead of reading. It is best for women to talk and spin and cook; these things are of some account. Men cannot do them, so leave to men the books."

So Zoe learned much and worked happily, but played also. Petro was a delightful playmate, and the two ran and raced in the sun, happy and gay. To be sure they got into mischief. Petro could think of more things to do in a minute than poor little Zoe could in an hour. She never intended to be naughty, which, however, could not be said of her cousin. He enjoyed more than anything finding outwhat would happen if he did things, and he dragged Zoe with him into many a scrape, knowing that he was not likely to be punished if she was with him in any iniquity.

He was really the village mischief, but so friendly a little chap, with such an engaging smile for all the world that he seldom got his deserts. To be sure, he was a kind-hearted boy, and his mischief seldom hurt anybody. He tied a bell to the wrong goat so that the herd which brought milk to the village (for the goats were milked in the streets every morning instead of the milk being carried around in a cart) went blindly after the bell-goat and lost itself by going to the wrong stable. Another day Petro persuaded Zoe to fish, and left her to watch the lines while he went off and forgot all about her in some new prank. She caught a devil-fish, and as Petro had told her on no account to let go of the line if she had a bite, but to pull in as fast as she could,when she felt a pull at the hook she obediently pulled in the horrid thing. Then she screamed in fright.

"It is the Old Get Away From Here!"[23]she screamed. "Petro! Petro!" Naughty Petro was far away and did not hear. The beast was black, with long legs which wriggled and squirmed and sprawled over the sand until she was sick with horror. It seemed like a dozen snakes all joined to one body, and Zoe had never seen anything so horrible. It tried to reach the water, and the little girl thought it was coming for her. She screamed again in such an agony of fright that a man passing ran to see what was the matter.

"It's surely the Old Get Away From Here I have caught!" she cried. "Oh, please take him off my hook and throw him back into the sea."

"It is but a devil-fish, child," he said. "Theyare good to eat. I will take him off and kill him for you, and you will then have a good dinner."

"Oh, I could not eat it!" said Zoe. "Thank you ever so much," and she took her lines and ran home to Aunt Angeliké. That good woman threatened dire things to Petro, but as he was not on hand to receive them she had forgotten all about it when he did appear. Truth to tell, Petro seldom received a back judgment that was due him, for there was always one right at hand, so that the past was overlooked.

The next scrape which overtook Zoe was of a more serious nature. She and Petro had gone one day to burn a candle in the little church, it being Zoe's saint's day. This accomplished, they sat down to rest under the great tree which held the church bell. These treecampanilesare often found in Greece and are very quaint and pretty. The bell hangs aloftunder a little wooden roof, and is rung by means of a bell-rope which hangs down among the branches.

It was hot and Zoe was tired with the long walk up the hill.

"Let's take a little nap," she said to Petro.

"Very well!" said that youngster. If Zoe had not been so sleepy she would have suspected that Petro's unusual readiness to keep quiet meant that he was planning to do something especially naughty. But she merely thought he was tired, and closing her eyes, was soon sound asleep.

girl under tree pulling rope"SHE SPRANG TO HER FEET, AND IN SO DOING PULLED THE BELL-ROPE."

"SHE SPRANG TO HER FEET, AND IN SO DOING PULLED THE BELL-ROPE."

No sooner was he sure of her slumbers than Petro climbed up in the tree to see what the great bell was like. He had always wanted to do it but had never had a chance before. It was not very exciting up there, however, and he climbed down again. Then it occurred to him that it would be interesting to tie Zoe up with the bell-rope and see what she would do.So very cautiously, for fear of waking her, he tied the rope around her waist. Then he thought better of it and tried to untie it, but he had made the knot too tight and in working at it he wakened Zoe. She sprang to her feet, and in so doing pulled the bell-rope. The church bell rang with a wild clamour, Papa Demetrios came rushing from his house to see what was the matter, after him came thepapadia[24]and all the children, while from the village a troop of urchins, followed by older people, came hastily up the hill.

"Is it a fire?" they called. "Has news come from the king?" cried another. "What is wrong in the village?" cried Papa Demetrios. Nobody could give any answer to these questions, and poor Zoe meanwhile rang the bell louder and louder in her efforts to free herself from the strange thing that bound her. At last she tripped over the rope, fell, and satin a heap on the ground, crying bitterly, but otherwise quiet. So was the bell. So were all the people. Then Papa Demetrios spoke very sternly.

"What does all this mean?" Nobody answered, for nobody knew. At last Petro spoke.

"If you please," he said in a low voice, "I think it is my fault."

"Did you ring the bell?" demanded the priest.

"No," said Petro. Then with an air of engaging frankness, "but I caused Zoe to ring it. You see, I tied her to the bell-rope."

"You are a—" Papa Demetrios' words failed him. "I have said that the boy who rang this bell should be whipped."

"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; helooked 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 hekept 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?"

"God only knows," she responded. "Really, I dare not leave him." But aloud she said,"Since your cousin insists, I shall take you," and Petro grinned, for the whispers had by no means been lost to him.

The time of currants is one of the happiest seasons for little Grecian children, for the fruit is delicious and it hangs in great clusters upon the bushes. The fruit is called "Corenth," named from the city of Corinth, and the currant trade is among the best in Greece, over a hundred and seventy tons being gathered each year.

The currant bushes are planted in rows three feet apart, like the Italian grape-vines, and grow on a single stalk which is trimmed down each year so that the roots may be strengthened.

Shoots spring up in March and April, and by the last of August the bushes are loaded with fruit, light and dark varieties. Women break the earth and heap it around the bushes during the growing season, indeed, women do muchof the field work in Greece, and it seems to agree with them, for Grecian women are nearly always healthy, though this may be due to the beautiful climate.

Both drought and rain are bad for the currant crop, and the heavy winds often blow the fruit off the bushes, but even with these drawbacks, the currants are sent to England, America and France, besides the Mediterranean countries, and the finest currants in the world come from Greece.

Zoe helped her aunt with the picking, for Uncle Andreas owned a currant plot, and everybody was needed to help get the fruit in after it was ripe. It was a delightful outing into the country for the little girl, and she enjoyed the picking and the lunch in the open air, which they ate seated upon blocks of white marble, the ruins of what had once been a beautiful temple. Petro was on his good behaviour and did nothing worse than fall off a column andscratch his nose, and a fall from Petro was such an everyday occurrence that no one, least of all the boy himself, paid any attention to it.

"Well, child," said her aunt, as they went homeward that night. "Have to-day's pleasures made up for yesterday?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. I have had a beautiful time," said Zoe. "Thank you ever so much for taking me to see the currant picking."

Itwas Easter time. All through the winter with its strict Lenten fast, Zoe had looked forward to the feast, while Petro had kept the fast days under his mother's strict supervision until he said he was ready "to eat a lamb's bones for Easter breakfast." All Grecians eat lamb at Easter time, and from every house in the village on Holy Saturday can be heard the bleating of imprisoned sacrifices ready to be slain for the morrow's festivities.

Uncle Andreas and Marco were to be at home in the early morning, and Zoe was happy in the thought of seeing them. The little house was clean and neat, and Zoe with a light heart followed Aunt Angeliké up the hill to thechurch, whose bells called sleepily to the midnight Mass.

Bright were the stars, and in the sky soft as the ocean, the moon full and radiant in beauty. The climb to the church at the top of the hill was steep, but many of their friends were climbing too, for all the villagers turned out to the service, since no Grecian would willingly miss it.

They reached the open square before the church just as the Mass began. Zoe entered behind her aunt and kissed theeikonat the door, taking from the server a long taper of yellow wax and holding it unlighted, as did everyone else. Then the priest came to the altar carrying a lighted taper, and all the altar boys, of whom Petro was one, scrambled excitedly to see who could get his candle lighted first. Petro was the lucky one, and it was his proud duty to light the candles of the waiting worshippers.

When all were lighted the priest led theprocession, every one bearing his taper alight, out into the square. Zoe thought she had never seen anything so wonderful as the square all aglow with dancing, flickering lights, in the centre the catafalque of Christ draped in deepest black. Upon this had been laid the cross with the image of Christ sawed out of a flat board with the face painted on it. The Greek Church does not approve of the use of statues, taking literally the verse of Scripture, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image," and this painted figure is the nearest to an image ever used in the Grecian churches.

The choir was singing their minor chants, the censers were swinging back and forth in a cloud of incense, the candles were flaring and flickering. As soon as one went out a bystander gave of his holy fire and it was relighted. One by one the worshippers came forward, knelt and kissed the cloth which covered the catafalque, blessing themselves as Papa Demetriossprinkled them with holy water, and all the time the strange, rhythmic chant of the choir continued.

Zoe prayed earnestly and gave little heed to the service, so that she did not notice that in the crowd she was separated from her aunt. It was nearly time for the close of the service and she felt in her pocket to see if she had her hard-boiled egg. It would be a dreadful thing if she had forgotten it. But it was there, and she smiled to herself that the happy day would soon come.

All over Greece, in every province, thousands of Grecians break a hard-boiled egg when the bells ring on Easter morning, a custom which has been handed down for centuries. The Grecians say that one must always eat hard-boiled eggs on Easter morning, and bowls of them are found in every house on that day. The custom arose in memory of a miracle performed when the Turks ruled in Greece.A Turkish woman was carrying an apronful of eggs on Easter day and was met by a Grecian who politely saluted the infidel, "Christ is risen!"

"Risen indeed!" said the unbeliever. "I shall never believe that until these eggs in my apron have turned red."

"Open thine apron and see!" said the Grecian, blessing herself as she spoke, and lo! the eggs were red as blood! The unbeliever straightway believed, and from that day red eggs have been eaten at Easter.

Suddenly Papa Demetrios raised his hand and blessed the people, saying in a loud voice, "Christos Aneste!" Immediately the bell-ringer seized the bell-rope which hung from the great tree beside the church, and rang the bell in a wild and joyous clamour. All over the land, far and near, other bells were rung, and from every voice on the square went up the glad shout, "Christ is risen! Christ isrisen!" Boys threw torpedoes at the white walls of the church and in the distance could be heard the sound of guns and fire-crackers, and everywhere was the wildest joy.

Zoe's taper suddenly went out.

"Aunt Angeliké," she said, "please light my taper." Her aunt did not answer, and looking hastily over her shoulder, Zoe saw that she was not there and around her surged the crowd. For a moment she was frightened, then she said to herself,

"There is nothing to fear. I must not be afraid. I shall soon find her," and she turned here and there, but could find no trace at all of her aunt.

"Can she have started home without me?" she thought, and tried to reach the edge of the crowd. Her foot caught against a branch of olive thrown down, and she stumbled and would have fallen had not a strong arm caught her.

"Oh, thank you," she cried as she struggledto her feet, to find herself in the grasp of a bearded stranger who looked at her so strangely that she wondered what was the matter.

"Your name, child, what is your name?" he demanded.

"My name is Zoe Averoff," she said. "I must find my aunt. Please let me go." He held her arm so tightly and looked at her so strangely that she was frightened.

"I shall never let you go!" he exclaimed. "Zoe! Zoe! do you not know me?" Something in the voice seemed strangely familiar. She looked into his face, into the dark eyes which looked with such love and longing into hers, then she gave a glad cry,

"My father! oh, my father!" and his arms closed around her.

"Such a happy Easter!" said Aunt Angeliké, as Sunday morning dawned clear and beautiful. "My husband and Marco at home, Zoe'sfather come back to the child, Petro behaving not worse than usual and the Easter lamb roasting a perfect brown as I baste it with the lemon dipped in lard."

"Was it not wonderful that my father found me at Easter time?" said Zoe, a strangely radiant Zoe, with shining eyes and brilliant cheeks. "He had been ill for weeks in a strange place they call Chicago. There he met a Grecian from Argolis and from him he heard that the news had come from Thessaly that my mother and I were dead. At that he did not want to return home, but he wrote several times to Uncle Georgios to hear of us and had no answer. Of course those letters never came. At first he sold things from a little cart in the streets. Then he saved money and with another Grecian he had a shop with flowers to sell. The Americans are strange people. They have money to throw away! They buy fruit and flowers all the time. Think of sostrange a country where one buys what here one may take with but a 'thank you' for pay! In the flower shop he made much money. But he was always sad. The money was of little good, since he had no one to share it with. Then he grew very homesick. He wanted once more to see Argolis and to sail on the blue seas of Greece. So he sold his flowers to his partner and took all hisdrachmasand returned home. He thought to spend his Easter here and go then to Thessaly to hear of my mother and myself and how we came to die. Then as Papa Demetrios said, 'Christ is risen!' lo! there was I risen from the dead."

"I thought it was a miracle," said her father. "For though the child is grown older, she is just like the Zoe whom I left, and to see alive her whom I thought dead was indeed a marvel."

"Shall you return to that far land?" asked Uncle Andreas, "and take Zoe from us?"

"Not so," said Zoe's father. "I shall stayhere and have a fishing-boat, for home is best and I think Zoe would not be happy so far away."

"I am glad you will not take her from us," Aunt Angeliké said sweetly. "I have learned to love her as my daughter."

"I am glad, too," said Marco, and Uncle Andreas laid his hand upon her curls, saying, "We all love the child."

Zoe smiled happily and nestled up to her father.

"Such a happy, happy Easter," she said. "I have nothing in all the world to wish for."

"Then wish for dinner," said Petro. "It seems to me that lamb will never be done."

"You are a Turk!" said his mother, laughing, and all laughed too, all except Petro, for his mother had called him the very worst thing which one can call our little Grecian Cousin.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:[1]Pet name for a baby as we would say "Babykins."[2]Sumadhe is a sweetmeat and mastika a cordial.[3]The Grecian equivalent of "Pattycake, pattycake."[4]Loukoumi is a paste made of sweet gums, sugar, rosewater and nuts.[5]Dowry.[6]Wedding things.[7]A Grecian coin worth about twenty cents.[8]God-father.[9]Small copper coin.[10]All Holy One.[11]Brigands.[12]Holy virgin.[13]Welcome.[14]How do you do?[15]Well?[16]Said to avert the evil eye.[17]A kind of paste eaten on fast days.[18]A sea food.[19]Dying.[20]Butterfly, a Grecian superstition being that the soul becomes a butterfly after death.[21]Grecian wine with resin in it.[22]A Grecian fish.[23]Grecian way of speaking of the Evil One.[24]Priest's wife.

[1]Pet name for a baby as we would say "Babykins."

[2]Sumadhe is a sweetmeat and mastika a cordial.

[3]The Grecian equivalent of "Pattycake, pattycake."

[4]Loukoumi is a paste made of sweet gums, sugar, rosewater and nuts.

[5]Dowry.

[6]Wedding things.

[7]A Grecian coin worth about twenty cents.

[8]God-father.

[9]Small copper coin.

[10]All Holy One.

[11]Brigands.

[12]Holy virgin.

[13]Welcome.

[14]How do you do?

[15]Well?

[16]Said to avert the evil eye.

[17]A kind of paste eaten on fast days.

[18]A sea food.

[19]Dying.

[20]Butterfly, a Grecian superstition being that the soul becomes a butterfly after death.

[21]Grecian wine with resin in it.

[22]A Grecian fish.

[23]Grecian way of speaking of the Evil One.

[24]Priest's wife.

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