There was an uncomfortable silence. Both Thornburg and Baron were looking interestedly at Mrs. Thornburg, who refused to lift her eyes. “I wonder how you happened to take her to your home?” she asked finally. Baron laughed uneasily. “I’m wondering myself,” he said. “Nobody seems to approve of what I did. But if you could have seen her! She’s really quite wonderful. Very pretty, you know, and intelligent. But that isn’t it, after all. She is so charmingly frank. I think that’s it. It’s unusual in a child.” “Yes, indeed,” agreed Mrs. Thornburg. “Unusual in any one, I should say.” “Why, perhaps it is,” agreed Baron simply. He was not a little puzzled by something in Mrs. Thornburg’s manner. “And why don’t you want to keep her?” she wanted to know. “We meant to. But it turns out that she and my mother are--well, antagonistic.” “That’s unfortunate, isn’t it? Please pardon me--you see, I’m really handicapped. But--what kind of woman is your mother?” She put the question so softly that it did not seem offensive. Baron hesitated. “Perhaps it will explain if I say that she is elderly? There haven’t been any children in the house for a good many years. She believes--what is the familiar saying?--that children ought to be seen and not heard.” Mrs. Thornburg hesitated. “That wouldn’t be quite the reason,” she said. “Your mother is--is orthodox, I suspect, in her friendships and ways. I’m sure you see what I mean.” “Yes,” admitted Baron. “I think you are getting closer to the facts than I did.” A pretty, delicate hue warmed the woman’s face, and her voice softened almost to tenderness. “I think I know,” she went on. “The little girl of the stage, out of some unknown place in Bohemia--she must seem quite disturbing, hopelessly out of harmony....” “You put the case much better than I did. Yet you know all that’s scarcely fair to Bonnie May. She’s not really bold and impertinent, in the usual sense of those words. She hasn’t had the kind of training other children have. She has never associated with other children. You can see that instantly. She assumes that she has the same right to her opinion that older people have to theirs. She never means to offend. I have an idea she’s really quite affectionate. I have an idea if you once won her over----” Mrs. Thornburg turned toward her husband and leaned forward in her chair, her eyes filled with a soft, generous impulse. When she spoke her voice vibrated with feeling. “Bring her home!” she said. Baron fancied there was an expression of triumph in the manager’s bearing. “You mean now--to-night?” he asked. “Why not to-night? I’m eager to have her; really eager, now that I’ve decided.” “It’s quite simple,” declared Thornburg. “I suppose you’ll have to--to get a few things ready?”