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āAbsurd!ā was Baronās comment.
āWell, I donāt know. You pretty near know without any badges. You can tell theāthe mixers, and the highbrows. I mean when they are the real thingāpeople worth while. I would know you for a mixer easy enough. I donāt mean careless, you know; but willing to loosen up a little if people went at you in the right way. And Flora would be a mixer, tooāa nice, friendly mixer, as long as people behaved.ā Here she turned with a heroic, friendly appeal to Mrs. Baron. āAnd Mrs. Baron would be one of the fine, sure-enough highbrows.ā
āI think,ā began Mrs. Baron, suddenly possessed of an ominous calm; but the guest made an earnest plea.
āOh, please let me finish!ā she begged.
āVery well,ā said Mrs. Baron, āyou mayāfinish.ā
āYou know I understand about your part in that entertainment this morning. You donāt belong in that crowd. Itās like the queen who kissed the soldier She was high enough up to do it and get away with it.ā She placed her elbows on the table and beamed upon Mrs. Baron with a look so sweetly taunting, and so obviously conciliatory, that the others dared to hope the very audacity of it would succeed.
āNow donāt deny,ā she continued, shaking an accusing finger at Mrs. Baron and smiling angelically, āthat youāre just a nice, sure-enough, first-class highbrow!ā
It was done with such innocent intention, and with so much skill, that all the members of Mrs. Baronās family turned their faces toward her smilingly, appealingly, inquiringly.
But alas! Mrs. Baron failed to rise to the occasion. She was being ridiculedāby a child!āand her children and her husband were countenancing the outrage. Her composure vanished again.
She pushed her chair back from the table angrily. Her napkin fell to the floor; she grasped the edge of the table with both hands and stared at Bonnie May in a towering rage.
āYou little wretch!ā she cried. āYou impudent, ungrateful little wretch! Youāyou brand from the burning!ā
She hurried from the room. In her blind anger she bumped her shoulder against the door as she went out, the little accident robbing her exit of the last vestige of dignity.
Bonnie May was horrified, crushed. She sat, pale and appalled, her eyes fixed on the doorway through which Mrs. Baron had vanished. Then she brought her hands together sharply and uttered a single word:
āHoo-ray!ā
Every member of the family was electrified.
āFather!ā expostulated Flora.
āVictor!ā exclaimed the elder Baron.
And Baron, shaking his head sadly, murmured:
āBonnie May! Bonnie May!ā
she came into the house. Sheās probablyārattled! How would you or I behave if we were in her shoes?ā
Mrs. Baronās eyebrows steadily mounted. āThe point is, weāre not in the slightest degree responsible for her. I want to know how weāre going to get rid of her.ā
Baron had taken a chair directly in front of his mother. Now he arose and paced the floor. When he spoke his tone was crisp almost to sharpness.
āIt isnāt any more difficult now than it was yesterday,ā he said. āI can turn her over to the police.ā
Something in his manner startled his mother. She flushed quickly. āThatās just like you,ā she protested. āWhat do you suppose people would say if we turned a motherless child over to the police? You ought to see that youāve forced a responsibility on me!ā
āWell, I should think it would be a question of what your own conscience says. As for āpeople,ā I donāt see why anybody need know anything about it.ā
āAnd the newspapers and everything? Of course they wouldā everything.ā
āI could ask Thornburg to take her. He offered to help. I have an idea heād be only too glad to have her.ā
āThe theatre manāyes. And heād dress her up in a fancy-ball costume, and encourage her in her brazen ways, and sheād be utterly shameless by the time she got to be a young woman.ā
Baron sat down again with decision. āMother, donāt!ā he exclaimed. āThornburg isnāt that kind at all. Heādāheād probably try to get at her point of view now and then, and he might allow her to have certain liberties. I think heās broad enough to want her to be good without insisting upon her being miserable!ā
āVictor Baron!ā warned his mother, and then she added with decision: āThen youād better get him to take herāand the sooner the better.ā
āWhy should I?ā demanded Thornburg bluntly He glared at Baron resentfully.
āYouāre quite right, certainly. I seem to have had the impressionāāā
āI have an idea sheās doing better with you than she would anywhere else, anyway,ā continued Thornburg in milder tones. āWhy not give her her place and make her stay in it? I canāt understand a family of grown people throwing up their hands to a baby!ā
āI merely wanted to get your views,ā said Baron stiffly as he rose to go. āI didnāt care to send for the police untilāāā
Thornburg got up, too. āDonāt understand that I wash my hands of her,ā he hastened to say. āIt might not hurt me any for the public to know that I didnāt do anything, under the circumstances, but it would certainly be a boost for me to have it known that I went out of my way to do a good deed. Of course if you wonāt keep herāāā
Baron turned and looked at him and waited.
āLook here, Baron, Iām going to be frank with you. When you took her home, I was sore at you. Especially after you told me something about her I like themāchildren, I mean. You had taken her off my premises. I thought about the big house Iāve got, and not a child in it, and never to be, and I figured I might as well have taken her myself. But thereās difficulties.ā His expression became troubled. āOnce before I tried to take a child into the house and Mrs. Thornburg objected. It was my own child, too.ā He paused. āYou know Iāve been married twice.ā
Baronās thoughts went back a few years to the somewhat unpleasant story of Thornburgās divorce from an actress with whom he had spent only a little more than one troubled year. The facts had been public property. He made no reply.
Thornburg continued: āIām in doubt as to how my wife would look at it if I suggested that Iād like to bring this waif home. Of course, itās just possible she might not want to take a child of mine, and still be willing to take in some outsider. You know what strange creatures women are.ā
Baron waited. Was Thornburg being quite frank with himāat last?
āYou see the difficulty. Theāthe wife is likely to suspect that Bonnie May is the same little girl I wanted to bring home beforeāthat sheās mine. She never saw the little daughter. Iād have to be careful not to make her suspicious.ā
āBut the circumstances ... I donāt see how she could suspect anything,ā argued Baron.
āNot if I donāt seem too much interested. Thatās the point. Iāll tell you, Baronāyou come out and see us. Me and my wife. Come to-night. State the case to us together. Tell the plain truth. Explain how you got hold of Bonnie May, and tell my wife your people have changed their minds. That ought to make the thing clear enough.ā
Baron, homeward bound, marvelled at Thornburg. It seemed strange that a crude, strong man should feel obliged to shape his deeds to please an ungracious, suspicious wife. He felt sorry for him, too. He seemed to be one of those blunderers whose dealings with women are always bewildering, haphazard experiments.
He had promised to call that eveningāto lend his aid to the manager. It was the sensible thing to do, of course. They had to get rid of Bonnie May. Nothing was to be gained by debating that point any further. And yet....
When he reached home he was hoping that his mother might, on some ground or other, have changed her mind.
He speedily learned that she had done nothing of the kind.
Indeed, matters were a little more at cross-purposes than they had been the night before. Mrs. Baron had tried again to make a dress for the fastidious guest, accepting certain of Floraās suggestions, and the result of the experiment hadnāt been at all gratifying.
Baron received the first report of the matter from Bonnie May, who was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs when he entered the house.
āYou will please make no unkind remarks about my new dress,ā she began, assuming the attitude of a fencer, and slowly turning around.
HOW A CONVEYANCE CAME FOR BONNIE MAY
āAND HOW IT WENT AWAY
T to his promise, Baron set aside that evening to call on the Thornburgs.
As he emerged from the vestibule and stood for a moment on the top step he noted that the familiar conflict between the departing daylight and the long files of street-lamps up and down the avenue was being waged. In the country, no doubt, this hour would be regarded as a part of the day; but in the city it was being drawn ruthlessly into the maw of night. There was never any twilight on the avenue.
Already countless thousands of people had had dinner, and were thronging the avenue in that restless march which is called the pursuit of pleasure.
He slipped into the human current and disappeared just a moment too soon to observe that an automobile swerved out from its course and drew up in front of the mansion.
A youthful-looking old lady with snowy hair and with small, neatly gloved hands, pushed open the door and emerged. With the manner of one who repeats a request she paused and turned.
āDo come in, Colonel,ā she called into the shadowy recesses of the car.
A gray, imposing-appearing man with a good deal of vitality still showing in his eyes and complexion smiled back at her inscrutably.
āGo on,ā he said, tucking his cigar beneath the grizzled stubble on his upper lip, and bringing his hand down with a large gesture of leisurely contentment. āYouāll be all right. I donāt mind waiting.ā
And Mrs. Harrod proceeded alone to make her call.
smiling with an odd sort of tenderness.
āWho are you?ā asked the visitor. Her eyes were beaming; the curve of her lips was like a declaration of love.
āIām Bonnie May.ā The child advanced and held out her hand.
Mrs. Harrod pondered. āYouāre not aārelative?ā
āOh, no. Aāguest, I think. Nothing more than that.ā
Mrs. Harrod drew a chair toward her without removing her eyes from the childās face. āDo sit down a minute and talk to me,ā she said. āWe can let Mrs. Baron know afterward. A guest? But you donāt visit here often?ā
āThis is my first visit. You see, I have so little time for visiting. I happen not to have anyāany other engagement just now. I was very glad to come here forāfor a while.ā
āYou havenāt known the Barons long, then?ā
āIn a way, no. But you know you feel youāve always known really lovely people. Donāt you feel that way?ā She inclined her head a little; her lips were slightly parted; her color arose. She was trying very earnestly to meet this impressive person upon an equal footing.
āI think youāre quite right. Andāhow did you meet them? I hope you donāt mind my asking questions?ā
āNot in the least. I met Mr. Victor at aāa kind of reception he was attending. He was lovely to me. He asked me to meet his mother.ā
āHow simple! And so you called?ā
āYes. That is, Mr. Victor came andāand brought me. It was much pleasanter, his bringing me.ā
She had wriggled up into a chair and was keeping clear, earnest eyes upon the visitor. She was recalling Mrs. Baronās agitation, and she was drawing conclusions which were very far from being wholly wrong.
āI think Victorās a charming young gentleman,ā declared Mrs. Harrod. āHeās always doing somethingānice.ā
āYes,ā responded Bonnie May She had observed that the visitor paused before she said ānice.ā Her eyes were alertly studying Mrs. Harrodās face.
āAnd your name is Bonnie May. Is that the full name, orāāā
āYes, thatās the full name.ā
Mrs. Harrod pondered. āYouāre not of the Prof. Mays, are you?ā
āWhy, Iām ofāof professional people. Iām not sure Iām of the Mays youāre thinking about.ā She edged herself from her chair uneasily. āI hope I havenāt forgotten myself,ā she added. āIām sure I should have let Mrs. Baron know you are here. I think you didnāt say what the name is?ā
āIām Mrs. Harrod. I hope youāll remember. I would be glad if youād be a friend of mine, too.ā
The childās dilemma, whatever it had been, was past. She smiled almost radiantly. āIām very glad to have met you, Mrs. Harrod,ā she said. She advanced and extended her hand again. āI truly hope Iāll have the pleasure of meeting you again.ā
Then she was off up the stairs, walking sedately. It had meant much to her that this nice woman, who was clearly not of the profession, had talked to her without patronizing her, without ātalking downā to her.
A strange timidity overwhelmed her when she appeared at Mrs. Baronās door. āItās Mrs. Harrod,ā she said, and there was a slight catch in her voice. āI mean, Mrs. Harrod has called. I let her in.ā
Mrs. Baron, standing in her doorway, was fixing an old-fashioned brooch in place. She flushed and there was swift mistrust in her eyes. āOh!ā she cried weakly. The sound was almost like a moan. āI thought Mrs. Shepardāāā
āI didnāt tell her I wasāI didnāt tell her who I was. I thought you would rather I didnāt. I was just nice to her, and she was nice to me.ā
She hurried away, then, because she wanted to be by herself. For some reason which she could not understand tears were beginning
casual air: āDo you find that your people still want to let her go?ā
He was playing a part, obviously; the part of one who is all but indifferent. Mrs. Thornburg scrutinized the visitorās face closely
āYes, I believe they do,ā replied Baron.
āIāve been talking to Mrs. Thornburg about the case. She understands that I feel a sort of responsibility. I think Iāve about persuaded her to have a look at the little girl.ā
Mrs. Thornburg seemed unwilling to look at her husband while he was speaking. Baron thought she must be concealing something. She was gazing at him with an expression of reproach, not wholly free from resentment.
āHasnāt the child any relatives?ā she asked. She seemed to be making an effort to speak calmly.
āI really canāt answer that,ā said Baron. āShe seems not to have. She has told me very little about herself, yet I believe she has told me all she knows. She has spoken of a young womanāan actressāshe has travelled with. There doesnāt appear to have been any one else. I believe she never has had a home.ā
Mrs. Thornburg withdrew her gaze from him. She concerned herself with the rings on her thin, white fingers. āHow did you happen to be with her in the theatre?ā she asked.
āI was in one of the upper boxes. I donāt know how she came to be there. I believe she couldnāt find a seat anywhere else.ā
āAnd youād never seen her before?ā
āNever.ā
There was an uncomfortable silence. Both Thornburg and Baron were looking interestedly at Mrs. Thornburg, who refused to lift her eyes. āI wonder how you happened to take her to your home?ā she asked finally.
Baron laughed uneasily. āIām wondering myself,ā he said. āNobody seems to approve of what I did. But if you could have seen her! Sheās really quite wonderful. Very pretty, you know, and intelligent.
