Baron reflected. “I suppose,” he said at length, “such people are often in financial straits?” “My goodness, yes! Almost always.” “If she--this actress--had really wanted to find the child, she surely would have made inquiries here at the theatre before now, wouldn’t she?” “It would seem so--certainly.” “What I’m getting at is this: It looks a good deal like deliberate desertion, doesn’t it?” “Yes, I should say so.” “And that’s what I simply can’t believe,” declared Baron. “Still,” he added, “under the circumstances, I ought to be justified in not saying anything--in assuming that I have a right to keep what has come into my possession?” “Well, for the time being, certainly. Of course, there may be developments sooner or later. She must belong to somebody; I mean, she must have a home somewhere.” “No, she hasn’t.” “But of course you can’t be sure of that.” “I am. She’s my authority.” “You mean she told you that? It was probably a childish fancy--or a downright falsehood. You have to take into account all manner of possible circumstances.” “I think she told me the truth. She doesn’t seem fanciful, in that way. She has the most remarkable sort of intelligence--of frankness.” Thornburg’s eyes brightened with interest. “Has she, really?” he asked. There was an interval of silence and then the manager laughed. “It strikes me that you’re an odd sort of a chap, Baron,” he said. “What was your idea in taking her home--a stray child like that?” “I don’t think it was so very remarkable. She wanted to go with me, for one thing. She seemed quite delighted at the prospect of having a real home.” The manager turned this statement over in his mind so long that Baron supposed he was thinking of something else. He sat, his hands clasped behind his head, regarding one of the pictures on the wall, well over Baron’s head. Then he aroused himself abruptly. “What’s your plan regarding her?” he asked. “I don’t know that I’ve got that far yet. She’ll have the usual schooling and the sort of training that is customary. When she’s grown--Well, it’s hard to look far ahead, where a child like that is concerned. Of course, if Miss Barry ever turns up.... She would have claims we couldn’t ignore.” “Who’s Miss Barry?” “She’s the woman who brought Bonnie May to the theatre. If you know of an actress by that name----” “I don’t.” “She probably hasn’t very much standing. From what Bonnie May said I judge she belongs to that vast army we never hear much about in the cities.” “It’s like this, Baron,” said the manager, with the air of a man who hasn’t time for useless speculations, “I’m thinking, and I suppose you’re thinking, that under the circumstances I ought to assume some of the responsibility for a waif who was lost on my premises. I’d want to be fair about it, you know.” “But I wasn’t thinking anything of the kind,” declared Baron.