"I'm not going back to Jed Hawkins' any more, Mister Roger," she
said.

A soft breath of wind lifted the tress of hair from her forehead,
revealing more clearly the mark of Jed Hawkins' brutality, and
Nada saw gathering in Jolly Roger's eyes that cold, steely glitter
which always frightened her when it came. His hands clenched, and
when she reached out and touched his arm the flesh of it was as
hard as white birch. Even in her fear there was glory in the
thought that at a word from her he would kill the man who had
struck her. Her fingers crept up his arm, timidly, and the blue in
her eyes darkened, and there was a pleading tremble in the curve
of her lips as she looked straight at him.

"I'm not going back," she repeated.

Jolly Roger, looking beyond her, saw the significance of the
bundle. His eyes met her steady gaze again, and his heart seemed
to swell in his chest, and choke him. He tried to let his tense
muscles relax. He tried to smile. He struggled to bring up the
courage which would make possible the confession he had to make.
And Peter, sitting on his haunches in a patch of violets, watched
them both, wondering what was going to happen between these two.

"Where are you going?" Jolly Roger asked.

Nada's fingers had crept almost to his shoulder. They were
twisting at his flannel shirt nervously, but not for the tenth
part of a second did she drop her eyes, and that strange,