Under favorable conditions the collapse of the bed would have been a relief. But now she stood looking at Mrs. Baron trying to reach her soul through her angry eyes. She shrank so from being humiliated before her friends--the old and the new. If Mrs. Baron, who had been so kind in many unimportant ways and times, could only spare her now! “If you will permit me, madam--” began Clifton. “Who are these--gentlemen?” demanded Mrs. Baron, still wrathfully regarding Bonnie May--Bonnie May and no other. “They are my friends,” said Bonnie May. “They have known me always. And really, you know, we weren’t doing anything wrong!” Clifton had assisted her to the floor; and now, after an appealing step in Mrs. Baron’s direction, and the swift conclusion that nothing she could do would save the situation, she broke into tears and staggered from the room. “Bonnie May!” called Clifton, with overflowing solace in his tone. He ran after Bonnie May. The other actor, casting brass rings and red bandanna to the floor, followed. “Emily Boone!” The voice was Mrs. Harrod’s. “I think you might blame us, if it’s all so terrible. We encouraged her. We _enjoyed_ it.” Mrs. Baron now turned toward the assembled group. She seemed dazed. “I--I didn’t know you were here!” she said, her voice trembling weakly. And then--“I don’t care! What would any woman do, coming home and finding strangers and--and such a scene in her house?” “We invited them in, mother,” confessed Baron weakly. “Yes,” echoed Flora, “they were old companions of Bonnie May’s, and we thought it would be nice to invite them in!” “And I suppose you invited--_him_ in, too?” retaliated Mrs. Baron, indicating Addis by a scornful, slight movement of her head. The effect of this upon Flora was most distressing. Could her mother so far forget herself as to reveal family differences in the presence of Mrs. Harrod and the McKelvey girls? Her wounded eyes fairly begged for mercy. Addis promptly came to her relief. “No, she didn’t, Mrs. Baron. I just dropped in.” His voice, by reason of its bigness and calmness, had the effect of making every one in the room feel how petty and needless had been the unpleasantness which Mrs. Baron’s arrival had created. His hair seemed more bristling than ever as he added: “If you will permit me, I’ll bid you good day.” He made a rather stiff bow, which was meant to include every one in the room, and turned to go. But here Mrs. Harrod interfered again. “Peter!” she called. The uttering of the unfamiliar given name created profound surprise in certain minds. “Peter!” she repeated. “I won’t have you go away like that. I want you to know Mrs. Baron better than you seem to know her. She doesn’t mean half she says. Emily, tell him I’m right!” She looked commandingly at Mrs. Baron. It was evident that she had a nature which was not to be subdued by trivial mishaps. Mrs. Baron flinched. “Who is Peter?” she demanded feebly.