Mrs. Baron couldn’t possibly have realized how Bonnie May had been accustomed to divide her hours between sleeping and waking. The guest had spent her life among player people, whose active hours begin at noon or later, and who do not deem the day ended until after midnight--sometimes far later than midnight. Nor had it been found convenient--or needful--by Bonnie May’s fellow workers to make any exception to the rule on her behalf. She had been one of them, and she had fared well and pleasantly. Thus it was that when Mrs. Baron appeared, somewhat like a bolt out of a clear sky, the child gave way to overwhelming rebellion. “I’m not used to going to bed at this hour,” she declared bluntly. She arose and stood by her chair, like a soldier by his guns, as the saying is. And taking in the inexorable expression in Mrs. Baron’s eyes, she turned appealingly to Baron. She was relying upon him to help her. “Couldn’t she--” began Baron weakly, and added, quite without conviction: “You know it’s Saturday night, mother!” He was glad he had thought of its being Saturday, though he couldn’t see why that should make very much difference. He really believed his mother’s position was strong enough, if she had only gone about the matter more tactfully. “Saturday night doesn’t make any difference,” declared Bonnie May, her rebellion now including Baron in its scope. “It just isn’t a reasonable bedtime.” Baron felt ready to surrender. “Anyway, it won’t be so bad just for one night,” he ventured. “Never mind, Victor,” said Mrs. Baron pointedly. She addressed herself to Bonnie May. “What you’ve been accustomed to may not be quite so important as what you ought to become accustomed to,” she said. “Come!” The child sauntered thoughtfully from the room. She had been impressed by the fact that even Baron had not seemed surprised by the suggestion that she ought to go to bed. She was trying to comprehend the situation. After all, people who were not of the profession had ways of their own, she realized. If they had _all_ decided to go to bed, she wouldn’t have minded so much. But they were laying down a special law for her. Rebellion triumphed again. In Mrs. Baron’s room she halted. “Where am I to sleep?” she inquired. “I think you heard me tell Mrs. Shepard to prepare a room.” “In the attic? Yes. But I’m not going to sleep there.” “Indeed, you are.” “I beg your pardon! Not under any circumstances!” Mrs. Baron lifted her fingers to her lips and coughed--a very inexpert cough. “You’ll have to do as I tell you, you know.” She resumed a resolute march toward the hall, her hand pressed firmly against Bonnie May’s back. The child jerked away with a sense of outrage. She had never been treated so before. “Truly, you’ll have to obey me,” repeated Mrs. Baron.