The woman's brow grew black. She reached out a heavy foot, and pushed
Elinor away from her.

"Not for thy pleasure," she said sneeringly.

"No, Patro, no! They are to pay me over and over for my life. Drop
for drop, pain for pain, I will take from them all I have myself
suffered. They shall sleep cold, because so I slept all my childhood.
They shall hunger because I did so. They shall beg in the streets
while I listen. Ah!" she shook her fists above her head, "I have hated
all the world, and now these shall pay me!"

Patro shrugged his shoulders. "As you will," he said. "They are
coming to life again, however. I would advise you to feed them enough
to keep beauty in their faces and grace in their limbs, if you indeed
wish to use them for food and light and fire."

"That is sound sense, Patro," she answered, and when the children came
dizzily to consciousness again, she treated them with almost a rough
kindness. But when they cried, she beat them, taking pains to let the
blows fall where they would not leave visible scars or bruises.

So passed the dragging hours, until Warren, unconscious and bleeding,
was flung down at Elinor's side.

"There!" said Michael. "You will spy, will you? Well, we have you
now. And when next you walk the streets, if so you do, you will have
cause to remember Michael Paovla and his friends."

Patro frowned. "You are too handy with names," he said. "Trust only a