Half-mad with pain, Jan ran until he found a place in the orange grove,
far back from the house, and trembling, he huddled down. His heart
thumped and again he suffered from the fear of things he did not
understand just as he had felt when his mother howled on the day he had
been led from the Hospice.

"If only Elizabeth will come back soon," he thought, "everything will
be right again, and the servants won't be cross to me any more."

The excitement of abuse for the first time in his life and the pain from
the wounded eye, which was swollen shut, made him feverish, but he kept
hidden all day, suffering from thirst rather than risk further
ill-treatment, and all the time he was listening for the sound of wheels
and the voice of Elizabeth calling him.

The sun went down, but the family had not come home. Then it grew very
quiet and dark, and Jan crawled to the back of the house for food and
water, which were always put there at sunset for him. He crept like a
thief, ready to rush back to the orange grove if he heard a step
approaching.

Both pans were in the accustomed place, but he found them empty. His
tongue was so dry and hot that he licked each pan in turn. Then he went
around to the front of the house and put his nose to a water faucet,
licking it for a drop of moisture. The pipe was dry. Jan looked out at
the ocean, over which the moon shone silvery bright, the water sparkled,
but he knew he could not drink salt water, and even to look at it now
made him more thirsty. At last, unable to resist any longer, he went to
the beach and lapped the stinging water that burnt his throat. Then he
plunged into the surf and swam out a short distance. But the waves