Clifton remembered. He said: “And you put on a cap that came way down over your eyes, and ran into the fat old captain who had come in ‘unbeknownst,’ as one of the soldiers said, to inspect the quarters!” Said Bonnie May: “And the soldiers wanted us to change our play, ‘The Captain’s Daughter,’ so that it would be a military play instead of a sea story!” There was a moment of silence, and then, for no apparent reason, the child and her visitors joined in a chorus of laughter. “That old play--I remember every word of the heroine’s part!” said Bonnie May. “She wasn’t much, was she? I remember wishing I was big enough to have the part instead of her.” She shook her head gently in the ecstasy of recalling the old atmosphere, the old ambitions, the old adventures. Then she clasped her hands and exclaimed: “Let’s do an act of it, just for fun! Oh, let’s do! If you could only think how hungry I’ve been----” She did not wait for an answer. She hurried to Thomason’s door and knocked. Her movements expressed a very frenzy of desire--of need. When Thomason did not respond she opened his door, and looked into his room. “He’s not here!” she exclaimed. “Come--his things will make the grandest sailors out of you!” She had them in Thomason’s room in no time. “But we can’t both be sailors,” objected Jack. “We’ll need a captain.” “We’ll imagine him. He’ll be out of sight somewhere.” She opened Thomason’s trunk. “It’s not--Romeo’s, is it?” asked Clifton dubiously. Bonnie May only emitted a little scream of delight. She had caught sight of two red bandanna handkerchiefs. She had them out swiftly. Also a new canvas coat, and an old one. Then she heard some one entering the room. Thomason came and stood beside her, to see what she was doing. He looked into the trunk as if he were curious to see what was in it. Her manner betrayed no confusion at all. “So glad you’ve come!” she said. “It’s going to be a play. Oh, the very thing! You can be one of the sailors, Thomason, and then we can have the captain, too.” She appealed to Clifton and Jack. “Won’t he make a perfectly splendid sailor?” she demanded. They agreed that he would be an ideal sailor. Thomason hadn’t the slightest idea what it all meant. But when she tied one of the red bandanna handkerchiefs in a special fashion around the neck of one of the actors, he concluded that it was going to be some kind of a game. Or possibly he feared he was going to lose his handkerchiefs. “Put one on me!” he suggested. And Bonnie May put one on him. Then she happened to look at one of the window-shades. “Earrings!” she exclaimed. “They used to look so delightfully wicked!” With Clifton’s aid she removed several brass rings from the window-shades. “I won’t need them,” said Clifton. “You know I was the captain.” So the rings were hung in Jack’s ears and Thomason’s. “Splendid!” cried Bonnie May. She inspected the result critically. “If we only had-- Thomason, is there any blacking?”