He whispered: "D'you hear?
She's in the next room whippin' Joan for runnin' away, and never a yap out of the kid!" He held up a lean finger for caution and then Haines heard the sound of the willow switch.

It stopped.
"If you run away again," warned Kate, her voice pitched high and trembling, "munner will whip harder, and put you in a dark place for a long, long time." Still there was not a sound of the child's voice, not even the pulse of stifled weeping.

Presently the door opened and Kate stood there.
"Go out in the kitchen and tell Li to give you breakfast.

Naughty girls can't eat with munner." Through the door came Joan, her little round face perfectly white, perfectly expressionless.

She did not cringe, passing her mother; she walked steadily across the room, rose on tip-toe to open the kitchen door, and disappeared through it.