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2. Soon after we moved to the Strawberry Pink Villa, Mother decided that I was becoming

too wild, and it was necessary for me to get some kind of education. But where could we

find this on a remote Greek island? Each member of the family had his or her own idea of

what was best for me. He has plenty of time to learn, said Leslie. After all, he can

read, can't he? I can teach him to shoot, and if we buy him a boat, I can teach him

to sail, said Leslie. But, dear, that wouldn't be much use to him, said Mother. I think it's

essential that he learns to dance, said Margot. Yes, dear, but that can come later. He should

be getting the basics of things like mathematics and French.

Literature, said Larry. That's what he needs. He needs a good introduction to the great writers.

No, what he needs is a healthy outdoor life. If he learned to shoot and sail, began Leslie.

Oh, stop talking like a doctor, replied Larry. The problem with you is you think you know best,

and you don't listen to anyone's point of view, said Leslie. Your point of view is so limited that

I can't even listen to it. Now, now, there's no sense in fighting, said Mother.

Well, Larry is so unreasonable. Really? said Larry angrily. I'm the most reasonable member

of the family. Yes, dear, but fighting doesn't solve the problem. What we need is someone

who can teach Jerry and who will help him in his interests. He seems to have only one interest,

said Larry, and that is to bring animals into the house. I don't think he should be encouraged

in that. It is too dangerous for a child. This morning I opened my drawer and a bumblebee

flew out. I found a grasshopper in my room, said Leslie.

Yes, I think this should be stopped, said Margot. I found the most disgusting jar of worms on

my dressing table. He doesn't mean any harm, poor kid, said Mother. He's so interested

in all these things. I wouldn't mind being attacked by bumblebees if I knew it was beneficial,

Larry pointed out. But it's just his age. He'll lose interest before he is 14. He's been

interested in these things since he was too. He hasn't lost any interest, said Mother.

Well, if you insist on filling his head with useless information, then I guess George can

teach him, said Larry.

That's a great idea, said Mother, delightedly. Will you go over and see him today? I think

the sooner he starts the better.

Sitting under the window with my arms around Roger's neck, I had listened to the family

discussion on my fate. Now, I wondered who George was and why it was necessary for me

to have lessons. George was an old friend of Larry's who had come to Corfu to write.

He was the one who was responsible for our moving to Corfu because he had written beautiful

letters about the place that convinced Larry we could live nowhere else. He came over to

the villa to discuss my education with Mother and we were introduced. We looked at each

other with suspicion. George was a very tall and thin man who moved like a puppet. He

had a pointed brown beard and a pair of glasses on his thin face. He had a deep voice and

a strange sense of humor. He would make a joke that no one understood, and then he would

smile faintly in his beard.

So George began the job of teaching me. There were no school books available on the island,

but it was not a problem. On the day we had agreed to meet, he brought an unusual selection

of books from his own library. Patiently, he taught me geography from a very old copy

of an encyclopedia. English from novels by different writers, French from a dictionary,

and mathematics from memory. To me, however, the most important thing was that we spent some

time on natural history. George carefully taught me how to observe and how to note down observations

in a diary. Soon my interest in nature became focused because I realized that I could learn

and remember much more by writing things down.

Every morning at nine, George would arrive through the olive trees, wearing shorts, sandals,

and an enormous straw hat, books under one arm swaying his walking stick. In the dining

room the shutters would be closed to keep the sun out, and George would lean over the

table ranging the books.

Let me see, George would say, yes, yes, mathematics. If I remember rightly, last time we met we

were trying to discover how long it would take six men to build a wall. If it took three

of them a week, let's look at this again.

He would look at the exercise book thoughtfully, pulling out his beard. Then he would set the

problem in another way. If it took three caterpillars a week to eat eight leaves, how

long would four caterpillars take to eat the same number? Now try that.

While I struggled with the unsolvable problem of caterpillars eating habits, George would be

busy doing something else. He was an expert fencer and was also learning some of the local dances.

So while waiting for me to solve the problem, he would hop around the room, practicing fencing

moves, or complicated dancing steps. I found this very distracting, and I have always related

my inability to do mathematics to this habit. Even today, if you give me some to calculate,

I will immediately think of George's tall and thin body jumping around the room.

We made better progress in geography, for George was able to mix in some zoology into

the subject. We would draw giant maps with mountains and fill in the important places,

together with drawings of important animals found there. So, for me, the most important

products of India were tigers and rice, and of Australia, kangaroos and sheep. The blue

waves we drew across the oceans carried whales, albatrosses, penguins and walrus, as well

of volcanoes there were red flames, and the mountain ranges of the world were so blue and

white with ice and snow that it would make one chilly to look at them. Our brown, sun -soaked

deserts were full of camels and pyramids, and our tropical forests were crammed with jaguars,

snakes, gorillas and trees. They were maps that were alive, maps that one could study

and add to. In short, they were maps that meant something.

Our attempts at history were not successful at first, until George discovered that by adding

in some unrelated facts about zoology, he could get me interested. For instance, an interesting

fact never mentioned in history books is that Columbus's first words when he set foot

on America, oh my god, look, a jaguar! With such an introduction, how could one not be

interested in the history of the American continent? Although he did not have adequate

books, George was able to make his teaching interesting so that the lessons were not boring.

Roger, of course, thought that I was wasting my mornings. He lay under the table asleep while

I struggled with my work. Occasionally, if I had to go get a book, he would wake, get

up, shake himself, yawn loudly and wag his tail. When he saw me return to the table,

he would unhappily walk back to his corner. For a short time, my pigeon, Quasimodo, also

joined us for lessons and behaved very well. He would sit on my lap, cooing the whole morning.

One day, he spilled a bottle of ink on the map we had just completed. I knew it was an

accident, but I was really annoyed, so I chased him out of the room. Quasimodo tried

for a week to get back by sitting outside the door and cooing, but I was determined not

to have him back in the room. Achilles the tortoise also attended our lessons one time,

but he did not like being inside the house. He spent the morning wandering about the room

and scratching the walls and door. He kept getting trapped under furniture, so he had to rescue

him each time. We finally decided that he would be happier in the garden. So, there was only

Roger left to keep me company. It was nice to be able to rest my feet on his woolly body

while I tried to solve a problem. Even then, it was hard for me to concentrate. The sun

would enter through the shutters and would make me think about all the things I might

be doing. I thought about the olive groves, where Cicadas sang, the stone wall where

the lizard ran, the murder full of insects, and the cliffs where birds of all kinds

lived. Realizing this, George began a new system of outdoor lessons. Some mornings, we

walked down through the olive groves along the dusty road. Then, using a goat track on

the top of the hill, we arrived at a small beach covered in white sand. From the top

where we stood, the water looked beautiful and transparent. Fish is moved in the water.

You could see rocks on which anemones lifted their colorful arms and crabs moved, carrying

their homes. We would change into our bathing suits and walk out onto the warm, bright water

and swim face down over the rocks. Occasionally, we would dive into the water to bring up something

that caught our eye, a brightly colored shell or a giant hermit crab that wore an anemone

on his shell. We could see below the green and black weeds growing and the sea slugs

that were the ugliest of the sea fauna. We would look for new shells for my collection

or talk about other fauna we had found. George would suddenly realize that although all this

was very enjoyable, it was not exactly education. We would then go back to the shallow water,

lie there and continue our lessons while the little fish would gently touch our feet.

So, the British Navy was getting ready to fight the French. It was going to be the most important

sea battle of the war. When the enemy was seen, Admiral Nelson was on the bridge, bird watching

through his telescope. A friendly seagull had warned him about the approaching French.

What? Oh, I think it was a black -backed goal. Well, the ships approached each other.

The British sailors were a bit worried because the French seemed so strong,

but when they saw that Nelson was sitting on the bridge, labeling his bird's egg collection,

they decided that there was nothing to be scared about.

The sea was warm and silky and moved me gently. There were no waves, only an underwater movement

rocking me softly. Around my legs, the colored fish swam and in the olive trees behind me,

the cicadas sang gently. George continued. And so they carried Admiral Nelson quickly

so that none of his men knew he had been wounded. As he lay there below the decks,

he murmured his last words. If anything happens to me, you can have my bird's eggs hardy.

One hot afternoon, when everything, except the cicadas, was asleep, Roger and I set out to see

how far we could climb over the hills before dark. We walked up through the olive groves,

full of sunlight, where the air was hot and still, and climbed onto a rocky peak above the trees,

and sat down for a rest. Below us we saw the island shining like a water picture,

gray, green olives, black cypresses, multicolored rocks of the sea coast, and the smooth sea,

blue and green. Directly below us was a small narrow bay with white sand. I was sweaty after the climb,

and Roger sat with his tongue out. We decided to go for a swim, instead of climbing the hills.

So we hurried downhill, until we reached the little bay, empty and silent. We sat in the warm,

shallow waters. Later, I lay on a rock to dry, while Roger sneezed, and went after the flying fish,

hopping in the water. Staring down into the clear water, he followed them with a look of

concentration on his face. When I was dry, I put on my shorts and shirt, and called to Roger.

He came reluctantly, stopping and looking back at the fish many times. He came close to me and

shook himself, showering me with water. After the swim, I felt tired and relaxed.

Slowly, we made our way back onto the road. Discovering that I was hungry,

I wondered which cottage was the nearest to get something to eat.

If I went to Celia Nora, who lived the nearest, she would give me figs and bread. But she was

explained to me all the little details of her daughter's health condition. I decided not to go

there. If I went to see Taki, the fisherman, he would be having a siesta, and would shout,

go away little corntop. Christaki and his family would probably be outside,

but in return for food, they would ask a lot of boring questions. Was England bigger than

Corfu? What was a train like? Were there trees in England? And so on.

If it had been morning, I could have walked through the fields and stopped at Filomena's house,

where she would give me a cold slice of watermelon. But now it was siesta time, and most of the peasants

were asleep in their houses. It was a difficult problem. Suddenly, I had an idea. Just over the

hill lived Yani, the old shepherd, and his wife. Yani had his siesta in front of the house,

in the shade of his grapevine. If I made enough noise approaching the house,

he would wake up and offer me some food. Happy with this thought, I set off the Stony Road

over the hill and into the valley where Yani's house was. When I was close enough to the house,

I stopped and threw a stone for Roger to fetch. This was one of Roger's favorite games.

He took the stone, brought it back, dropped it at my feet, and waited for me to throw it again.

I ignored him and started whistling. Roger waited some more and then started barking.

His barks echoed among the olives. I let him bark for about five minutes. By this time,

I was sure Yani had woken up. I threw the stone for Roger and walked to the front of the house.

The old shepherd was on a chair under the shade of the vine, but he had not woken up.

I stared at him, trying to wake him up using telepathy, but with no result.

It would be rude for me to wake him, and I was wondering if I should wait until he awoke

naturally or go to Leonora and be bored. Then Roger came and searched at me, saw me,

and wagged his tail happily. Suddenly he froze. He had seen something I hadn't,

lying under Yani's chair was a large gray cat who was watching us with unfriendly green eyes.

Before I could reach out and grab him, Roger had jumped on the cat.

The cat escaped with a quick movement and climbed up the grapevine. She stared down at Roger. Roger

was frustrated and angry and started barking loudly and furiously. At that moment, Yani's eyes opened

and his chair rocked. He opened his arms violently, trying to keep his balance.

What is happening here? He shouted.

He looked round to understand the cause of the chaos and saw me sitting on the wall,

sweetly and politely, as if nothing had happened. I asked if he had slept well. He got up to his

feet grinning. Ah, it's you making this noise to split my head. Sit down, little lord. He said,

dusting off his chair and placing it for me. It is good to see you. You will eat with me and

have a drink. It is a very hot afternoon. Very hot. Hot enough to melt a bottle.

He stretched and yawned loudly, then turning to the house he shouted.

Aphrodite! Aphrodite! Wake up, woman! The little lord has come! Bring food! Do you hear?

I heard. I heard. Came a sleepy voice from inside. Yani yawned again and turned to me.

Today I wanted to take my goats to Gus Dury, but it was too hot. In the hills, the rocks will

be so hot, you could light a fire from them. So I went to visit Taki. I came back here and felt so

very sleepy. He paused for a second thinking.

Ah, here is something that will interest you. He said as he pulled a tiny bottle from his pocket.

Look what I caught this morning under a rock. The bottle was filled up with olive oil,

and inside it was a small brown scorpion. His tail curved over his back. He was dead.

See that? Said Yani, pointing at the yellow color around the dead body.

That's the poison. He was full. I asked why it was necessary to put the scorpion in oil.

Don't you know why, little lord? And you spend all your time catching these things.

He said smiling. Well, I will tell you why. First, catch the scorpion. Catch him alive and gently.

Then put him in the bottle of oil. But he has to be alive. Let him sit there and die in it.

The oil will soak the poison. Then, if you ever get stung by a scorpion,

you must rub the place with that oil. That will cure the sting.

Aphrodite came carrying a tray, on which there was a jug of water and a plate with bread,

olives, and figs on it. We ate and drank in silence.

When we had finished, Yani sat back, wiped his mustache, and continued the conversation.

I knew a man once, a shepherd, who had been to a fiesta in a village far from home.

On the way back, he decided to take a nap, so he found a spot beneath some trees.

As he slept, a scorpion crawled into his ear, and when he awoke, it stung him.

Yani paused for a moment and continued. It was very sad, one so young.

He took a deep breath and looked at the little bottle.

That is why, he went on. I never go up the hills and sleep, and I always carry a scorpion bottle with me.

We talked some more about other interesting topics, and after an hour, I got up,

thanked the old man and his wife for their hospitality, took the bunch of grapes that they

presented me, and set off towards home. Roger walked close to me, his eyes fixed on my pocket,

for he had seen the grapes. After a while, we found an olive grove, and sat down by a mossy hill,

and shared the fruit. When the grapes had finished, I rolled over to my stomach,

with my chin in my hands, and examined the hill behind me.

I saw a green grasshopper, then a snail sitting on a piece of grass.

A fat little mite worked in the moss. It was a microscopic world, full of fascinating life.

Then I noticed a strange thing. On the green surface of the moss, there were several circular marks,

each the size of a coin. They were very difficult to see. I wondered what could have made them.

I pushed the edge of one of the circles with a piece of grass, but it did not move.

I pushed it again, and suddenly the circle lifted up like a door.

To my amazement, I saw that it really was a little door leading to a tiny tunnel.

The edge of the door was attached to the entrance of the tunnel by a small piece of silk.

I gazed at this amazing piece of art, and wondered what could have made it.

I could see nothing down the tunnel. For a long time, I sat, staring at this fantastic house,

trying to decide what kind of animal had made it. I felt that I must solve this problem immediately.

I would go down and ask George if he knew what this mysterious animal was.

I called Roger and set off right away.

I arrived at George's villa out of breath and bursting with excitement. I knocked in the door and ran in.

Only then did I realize that he had a guest.

I saw a man with a beard, so I decided he must be George's brother.

However, unlike George, he was wearing a clean grey suit with a waistcoat,

a spotless white shirt, a tasteful tie, and large polished boots.

I paused, embarrassed, while George looked at me and smiled.

Good evening, he greeted me. From the way you entered, I understand that you have not come for a lesson.

I apologized for disturbing them. Then I told George about the strange nests I had found.

I'm glad you're here, Theodore, he said to the bearded man. I can now hand over this problem to you.

He turned to me.

Jerry, this is Dr. Theodore Stephanitis. He is an expert on everything you can think of.

Like you, he is a nature lover. Theodore, this is Jerry Durl.

How do you do? I said politely. To my surprise, the bearded man stood up,

walked over to me, and held out his hand.

Very pleased to meet you, he said.

I shook his hand and said I was very pleased to meet him, too.

Well, Theodore, said George. What do you think made these strange tunnels?

Theodore stared at the floor and thought for a moment.

Well, er, he said, his words coming slowly. They might be the tunnels of the trap -door spider.

Er, it is a species which is quite common in corfu.

I mean, I have found thirty or forty of them during my time here.

Ah, said George, trap -door spiders.

Yes, said Theodore. Most probably, but I may be mistaken.

He looked at me eagerly.

Perhaps if they're not too far away, we could go and see them, he suggested.

They're only just up the hill, I said.

Don't let him drag you around, Theodore, said George.

No, no, not at all, said Theodore. I was just about to leave, and I can easily walk that way.

He picked up his hat and placed it on his head.

At the door he shook George's hand briefly.

Thank you for the tea, he said.

As we walked together I studied him. He had a blonde beard,

bushy eyebrows, and keen bright eyes with laughter wrinkles at the corners.

He walked energetically, humming a song to himself.

Finally, we came to the olive grove, an eyelid Theodore to the hill,

and showed him the mysterious trap -door. He looked down at it, his eyes narrowed.

Aha, he said. Yes, um, yes.

He pulled a tiny pen knife from his waistcoat pocket and carefully opened the little door with it.

He peered down the tunnel and then left the door fall into place again.

Yes, the trap -door spider, he said, but this tunnel is not inhabited.

Then he explained to me how the spider caught insects by suddenly jumping out of the door.

We walked down the hill in silence.

When we came to the place where our paths forked, we said our goodbyes.

He turned and walked down the hill, swinging his stick.

I was confused and amazed by Theodore. First, he was a respectable scientist,

so he was a very important person. Secondly, he treated me and talked to me as though I were

his own age. I liked him for this because my family never talked down on me.

And I did not like others who did. Theodore talked to me like I was a grown -up,

and someone as knowledgeable as himself. I walked back home through the darkening fields,

eager to tell my family about my new discovery and my meeting with Theodore.

I hoped to see him again because there were many things I wanted to ask him.

Two days later, Leslie gave me a parcel.

I met that bearded guy in town this morning. He said, that scientist. He said this was for you.

I could not believe it. Surely it couldn't be for me. There must be a mistake.

For a great scientist would not bother to send me parcels.

I looked at it and saw my name on it.

I tore the paper quickly. Inside was a small box and a letter.

He had sent me a pocket microscope to help me in my fieldwork.

He also invited me for tea the following Thursday. During the last days of summer and

throughout the warm wet winter, I had tea with Theodore every Thursday.

I would go to his house with my pockets full of match boxes and test tubes with specimens.

Spiro would drive me to town. Theodore would welcome me in his study.

The walls of this room were full of books on biology, botany, astronomy, medicine, folklore,

and similar interesting subjects. At one window stood his telescope, and on the window sills

there were many jars and bottles containing freshwater fauna. There was a very big desk in

the room covered with x -ray plates, notebooks, and diaries. There was also a microscope table full

of microscopes. After shaking my hand and asking me how I was, Theodore would begin talking about

important topics. I was, er, you know, looking through my slides,

and I came across one that may interest you. It is a slide of the mouth parts of the rat flea.

So, happily and enthusiastically, we would move from topic to topic, and Theodore would

always answer my never -ending questions. If he did not know the answer, he would go to his books.

Aha! It is interesting that you mentioned that. The peasants in Salonica have a very similar

superstition. I have a book that talks about it here. T would be served with cakes and biscuits.

We would eat while we continued our conversation. But it is impossible to say there is no life on Mars.

In my opinion, it is quite possible that some form of life will be found. If we succeed

in getting there. To me, Theodore's knowledge was unlimited. He could say something interesting

about any subject. At last, we would hear Spiro honking the cars horn in the street below,

and I would reluctantly get up. We would shake hands and say our goodbyes,

and Spiro would drive me back. In the car, I would dream about springtime,

when Theodore and I would catch all kinds of wonderful creatures.

Spring came at last, and the island was filled with flowers and new leaves.

The whole island was celebrating its arrival. You could see it in the bright flower petals,

the shiny bird wings, the happy eyes of the people.

As soon as we had settled in the house and started enjoying the island,

Larry wrote to all his friends and invited them to stay with us.

He had not realized that the villa was just big enough for the family.

I invited a few people here for a week or so. He said to Mother one morning,

that will be nice dear, said Mother, without thinking.

I thought it would be nice to have some intelligent people around us.

I hope they're not very serious people dear, said Mother. I don't like the serious ones.

I can't talk about poetry and books. They always come and ask me silly questions

when I'm in the middle of cooking. Larry was annoyed and took a deep breath.

You should tell the hotel when they're coming, said Mother.

Why? Asked Larry, surprised.

So they can book the rooms, said Mother, also surprised.

But I've invited them here to the house, Larry said.

Larry, really? You are so thoughtless. How can they stay here? Where are they going to sleep?

Mother, there's plenty of room if we organize it well.

Margot and Leslie can sleep outside and you and Jerry can move to the sitting room.

Don't be silly dear. We can't do that. Besides, it's cold at night.

And I don't think Margot and Leslie should sleep outside.

There simply isn't enough space in the house for other people.

You have to write to these people and stop them from coming.

I can't, said Larry. They're on their way.

Really, Larry? Why didn't you tell me before? You wait until they're here and tell me.

Don't worry, said Larry. There's a simple solution to the problem. We should move to a

bigger villa. Don't be silly. We can't do that. Why can't they stay at the hotel?

You can't invite people to stay with you and then make them stay at a cheap hotel.

How many have you invited? Asked Mother. Oh, just a few. Two or three. They won't all be coming at the

same time. Tell me how many you've invited. Said Mother. Well, I can't remember now.

Seven or eight people, maybe? But that makes 13 people, including us.

How are we going to fit 13 people into this villa? Well, let's move then. It's the perfect

solution. But if we move to a bigger villa, what are we going to do with the extra space when they

leave? We'll invite some more people, said Larry. Really, Larry? Sometimes you make me very mad.

Well, I've done all I can, said Larry. I can't do any more. We're not moving to another villa.

Said Mother firmly. I've made up my mind about that. And she walked away.