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Satisfied, I found more twigs, gathered them up in my tucker, and went to a soft, little hill at the side of the house where I could whittle to my heart's content, or until my fingers froze. From then on, I made it my habit to work on a few branches a day until I'd built up a stockpile and I was able to return the dagger as easily as I'd taken it.
    Days and weeks passed from Mr. Lloyd's visit and there was no word of my going to school. I never bothered to ask about it, as I was quite content since Mrs. Reed had put me out of her company and allowed me to keep separate hours from the family's. Occasionally, I met up with her in the hall as she was making preparations for the hunt, but she merely narrowed her eyes and stepped around me as if I were a mess on the rug. If she noticed the improved colour in my cheeks from spending hours in the sun, my more robust frame since I'd been permitted proper food, my improved energy from spending hours out of doors running through fields, she didn't comment on it.
    My cousins seemed to notice, however. Eliza and Georgina, evidently acting according to orders, spoke to me as little as possible. I noticed their gazes narrowing on me, much like their mother's, only theirs seemed to linger in shrewder assessment. Did I perhaps look a little prettier to them now that I lived a healthier mortal lifestyle? And why should it bother them?
    John thrust his tongue in his cheek whenever he saw me and once attempted chastisement. More determined than ever to stand my ground, I snarled at him, as if warning him away in a language he might understand, that of wild beasts. Once I dared show him a
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    wooden stake I'd taken to keeping with me at all times, hidden in my pocket or up a sleeve. He ran immediately to his mama.
    "Don't talk to me about her, John. I told you not to go near her. She is not worthy of notice. I do not choose that either you or your sisters should associate with her."
    Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out suddenly, and without at all deliberating on my words, "They are not fit to associate with me."
    Mrs. Reed was a rather large woman, a fierce hunter who alone could devour more than half of what she killed, and she flew at me like a whirlwind, taking the stairs three or four at a time. She crushed me against the wall and dared me to move much less speak to her children again. Her sharp canines, bared, glowed in the lamplight. If she had ever been tempted to attack me, she had hid it well until now.
    I checked my fear to address her as calmly as I could manage. "What would Uncle Reed say to you, if he were alive?"
    "What?" Mrs. Reed backed away, her black eyes returning to their usual cold, composed, and lifeless state.
    "My uncle Reed is in heaven now, reunited with his conscience and his soul. Don't think he doesn't watch over you and wish you to find your way to eternal peace and comfort as well. He sees all."
    Mrs. Reed soon rallied her spirits. She jumped at me again, gripped my shoulders and shook me most soundly, then slapped me across the face and left me without a word. Once she walked away, I realised that I'd had a firm hand inside my tucker, gripping the sharpened stake, the entire time I'd been under attack. How close I might have come to using it.
    Bessie had words for me that night before bed about minding my station and keeping to my place. For once I did not feel humbled by the words. No, indeed. I felt empowered, not wicked, courageous, not ungrateful. I'd found the power to stand up for myself, and it felt better than I ever imagined it would.
    November, December, and half of January passed away. Christmas
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    and the New Year had been celebrated at Gateshead with the usual festive cheer. Presents had been exchanged, dinners and evening parties given, old friends invited and unexpectedly consumed later in their beds. From every enjoyment I was, of course, excluded. My share of the gaiety consisted in witnessing the nightly attiring of Eliza and