And behind them, and very near, a rival to the warbler in the meadow began singing.

But Nada did not hear.

The color had rushed hot into her cheeks at first, but now it was fading out as swiftly, and her hands trembled, clasped in front of her.

But the blue in her eyes was as steady as the blue in the sky as she looked at Jolly Roger.
"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.