Mrs. Harrod drew a chair toward her without removing her eyes from the child’s face. “Do sit down a minute and talk to me,” she said. “We can let Mrs. Baron know afterward. A guest? But you don’t visit here often?” “This is my first visit. You see, I have so little time for visiting. I happen not to have any--any other engagement just now. I was very glad to come here for--for a while.” “You haven’t known the Barons long, then?” “In a way, no. But you know you feel you’ve always known really lovely people. Don’t you feel that way?” She inclined her head a little; her lips were slightly parted; her color arose. She was trying very earnestly to meet this impressive person upon an equal footing. “I think you’re quite right. And--how did you meet them? I hope you don’t mind my asking questions?” “Not in the least. I met Mr. Victor at a--a kind of reception he was attending. He was lovely to me. He asked me to meet his mother.” “How simple! And so you called?” “Yes. That is, Mr. Victor came and--and brought me. It was much pleasanter, his bringing me.” She had wriggled up into a chair and was keeping clear, earnest eyes upon the visitor. She was recalling Mrs. Baron’s agitation, and she was drawing conclusions which were very far from being wholly wrong. “I think Victor’s a charming young gentleman,” declared Mrs. Harrod. “He’s always doing something--nice.” “Yes,” responded Bonnie May. She had observed that the visitor paused before she said “nice.” Her eyes were alertly studying Mrs. Harrod’s face. “And your name is Bonnie May. Is that the full name, or----” “Yes, that’s the full name.” Mrs. Harrod pondered. “You’re not of the Prof. Mays, are you?” “Why, I’m of--of professional people. I’m not sure I’m of the Mays you’re thinking about.” She edged herself from her chair uneasily. “I hope I haven’t forgotten myself,” she added. “I’m sure I should have let Mrs. Baron know you are here. I think you didn’t say what the name is?” “I’m Mrs. Harrod. I hope you’ll remember. I would be glad if you’d be a friend of mine, too.” The child’s dilemma, whatever it had been, was past. She smiled almost radiantly. “I’m very glad to have met you, Mrs. Harrod,” she said. She advanced and extended her hand again. “I truly hope I’ll have the pleasure of meeting you again.” Then she was off up the stairs, walking sedately. It had meant much to her that this nice woman, who was clearly not of the profession, had talked to her without patronizing her, without “talking down” to her. A strange timidity overwhelmed her when she appeared at Mrs. Baron’s door. “It’s Mrs. Harrod,” she said, and there was a slight catch in her voice. “I mean, Mrs. Harrod has called. I let her in.” Mrs. Baron, standing in her doorway, was fixing an old-fashioned brooch in place. She flushed and there was swift mistrust in her eyes. “Oh!” she cried weakly. The sound was almost like a moan. “I thought Mrs. Shepard----”