k toward her,

"You came just in time for supper, Nada. We'll eat--and then I'll go
home with you, as far as the Ridge."

Peter watched them. His pain was gone, and it was nice and comfortable
in Jolly Roger's blanket, and with his whiskered face on his fore-paws
his bright eyes followed every movement of these two who so completely
made up his world. He heard that sweet little laugh which came only now
and then from Nada's lips, when for a moment she was happy; he saw her
shake out her hair in the glow of the lamp which Jolly Roger lighted,
and he observed Jolly Roger standing at the stove--looking at her as
she did it--a worship in his face which changed the instant her eyes
turned toward him. In Peter's active little brain this gave birth to
nothing of definite understanding, except that in it all he sensed
happiness, for--somehow--there was always that feeling when they were
with Jolly Roger, no matter whether the sun was shining or the day was
dark and filled with gloom. Many times in his short life he had seen
grief and tears in Nada's face, and had seen her cringe and hide
herself at the vile cursing and witch-like voice of the man and woman
back in the other cabin. But there was nothing like that in Jolly
Roger's company. He had two eyes, and he was not always cursing, and he
did not pull Nada's hair--and Peter loved him from the bottom of his
soul. And he knew that his mistress loved him, for she had told him so,
and there was always a different look in her eyes when she was with
Jolly Roger, and it was only then that she laughed in that glad little
way--as she was laughing now.

Jolly Roger was seated at the table, and Nada stood behind him, her
face flushed joyously at the wonderful privilege of pouring his coffee.
And then she sat down, and Jolly Roger gave her the nicest of the
partridge breasts, and tried hard to keep his eyes calm and quiet as he
looked at the adorable sweetness of her across the table from him. To
Nada there was nothing of shame in what lay behind the happiness in the
violet radiance of her eyes. Jolly Roger had brought to her the only
happiness that had ever come into her life. Next to her God, which Jed
Hawkins and his witch-woman had not destroyed within her, she thought
of this stranger who for three months had been hiding in Indian Tom's
cabin. And, like Peter, she loved him. The innocence of it lay naked in
her eyes.

"Nada," said Jolly Roger. "You're seventeen--"

"Goin' on