THE VINTAGE
Mitsos was standing close to the door, and this grotesque little apparition, as he opened it, gave a shrill squeal of dismay, and would have shut it again had not Yanni prevented him.
"Who is that?" asked the little man, pointing to Mitsos.
"My cousin," said Yanni, "who comes with me on the business of the corn. Oh, all our necks are in one noose. Do not be afraid."
The little old man seemed strangely reassured at this brutality of frankness, and setting the deor wide—"Come in, both of you," he said, shortly.
Inside the noise of the mill was almost deafening, but Gregoriou pinned the wheel, the two stones stopped grinding, and only the water splashed hissing down the channel.
"Black corn, did you say; black corn for the Turk?" stid the little eld man, peering into Yanni's face, with blinking eyes, like a noonday owl. "I grind corn all day, for there will be many hungry mouths. Look you, I am no fighting man; I leave that to those who are taller than the pillars in the church, like this cousin of yours; but where would the fighting be without such as I? But, lad, don't give hint of this to the woman-folk, else I shall have the clan of them a-sereaming round me like the east gale in the mountains."
He rubbed his hands together and broke ont into a screeching cackle of a laugh, which showed a row of discolored, irregular teeth.
"Look here," he said, opening a bin behind the door, "is not this good, strong corn? I have ground it all myself. None but I have ground it."
His face took an expression of diabolical cunning.
"They have promised to buy it of me, all at a sound
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