“It seems strange to have a mere infant passing between two houses like a bird between two trees,” he said. This was thought to be his mild way of expressing disapproval. “It’s Victor’s arrangement,” replied Mrs. Baron. This response was made less inadequate by the way her eyebrows went up. “The fact is,” declared Flora, “we’ve all fallen in love with the saucy little thing.” “Well?” inquired Mrs. Baron truculently. “I mean, I don’t think Victor’s idea is a bad one at all. She’s--well, the kind that do extraordinary things when they grow up. We may be glad enough to be in a position where we can ‘get from under’ one of these days.” “I’m thinking of our responsibility,” was her mother’s rejoinder. “Yes, so am I. Suppose she made up her mind to be an actress again? The Thornburgs would be just the right kind of friends for her if she did--and Victor says they are very good people. But having an actress in the house--in _our_ house--would be like having a cub bear for a pet. They’re cunning enough when they’re little, but there comes a time when you have to telephone the zoo, or turn in a riot call.” “You ought to be ashamed!” cried Mrs. Baron. “I’m sure she’s a good child--a very good child.” The word “reconstruction” came to Flora’s mind, but she didn’t say anything about it. She only smiled, rather tantalizingly, and added: “Just the same, I believe in cyclone cellars.” So it became no uncommon thing for a huge car to stop before the mansion. “For me!” Bonnie May would exclaim on these occasions; whereupon she would hurry into jacket and hat, and eagerly clasp Mrs. Baron and Flora about the neck, and hurry with real childish eagerness as far as the front door, after which she would demurely cross the sidewalk and take her place in the car with the air of any sedate lady of fashion. * * * * * The first little unpleasantness between Bonnie May and Baron arose very soon after this series of irregular exits and entrances began. “While I think of it,” said Baron casually, addressing the child, “I want to provide a--a fund for you.” He smiled amiably. “See?” He took a quantity of change from his pocket and placed it in a vase. “Whenever you go calling it will be proper for you to put something into your purse. For tips, perhaps. Or for something of that kind. I am sure a young lady ought to have a little money.” Bonnie May looked curiously into his smiling face, which seemed to have been transformed for the moment into a mask. “I don’t believe I would bother about that,” she replied. “I’m not bothering.” Baron’s smile stiffened slightly. “I merely wish you to have what you want.” “But Mrs. Thornburg always gives me money.” The smile vanished. “That’s very good of Mrs. Thornburg, certainly. But when you are in our house you won’t need her money. When you’re starting out, from this end of the route, you’ll find money in the vase.”