"Kids have to be trained, and you are as hard bitted as Buster," answered
John.

"No such thing!" Judith suddenly rose from the table. "It's just bad
temper."

"Judith! Judith! Don't!" pleaded her mother.

"Let her alone!" John's voice was not angry. He was eying Judith with
inscrutable gaze.

"The next time you even try to kick me, I'm going to run away."

She paused and suddenly Douglas thought, "Jude knows what real loneliness
is. She's a very lonely person." He leaned forward and watched her with
unwonted sympathy. She swallowed once or twice, and then went on:

"A woman, a dog, and a horse, you don't kick any of them. Peter Knight
says so. Maud Day's father never kicks her. He hits her with a belt,
maybe, when she doesn't get his horse quickly enough, and maybe he hits
her mother when he's drinking, but that's all." Judith began to gather
up the dishes with trembling fingers.

"How old are you, Judith?" asked John.

"You know. I was fourteen last spring."

"By jove, you are almost a woman grown!" John swept her with a look, then
rose and went into the living room.