Her whole being became tremulous--she who had had no children of her own, and who knew nothing about them. “Nothing to-night, to speak of. To-morrow....” She clasped her hands and looked into vacancy, as if visions were coming to her. But Thornburg was already in an adjoining room at the telephone, ordering his machine. Baron regarded Mrs. Thornburg thoughtfully. He was surprised and touched by her intensity. Then she looked at him, mutely appealing. There was a long moment during which two minds tried to meet across a barrier of emotion and a lack of mutual knowledge. Then Mrs. Thornburg spoke. “You know,” she explained, “we’ve both been disappointed, deeply disappointed, because we hadn’t any of our own.” When Thornburg’s automobile stopped before the Baron mansion, half an hour later that evening, and the manager and Baron got out, something happened. Mrs. Baron, her gray hair stirring slightly in the spring breeze, stood on the front steps for all the world like an alert sentinel. “Well, Victor?” she demanded, as her son advanced toward her. Her voice was sternly challenging. “This gentleman has come to take Bonnie May away,” replied her son. He derived a certain satisfaction from her disturbed state. “Where to?” “To her new home, with Mr. and Mrs. Thornburg.” “Do you mean you’ve brought that machine to take her away to-night?” “Why, yes--certainly.” “Well, you can just send it away. You won’t need it to-night.” “I don’t believe I understand, mother!” Baron had approached the lowest step and Thornburg had taken a position close to him. Mrs. Baron, from her superior height, frowned down upon them as if they were two kidnappers who must be held at bay. “You probably don’t,” replied Mrs. Baron. “It isn’t necessary that you should, either. But you’ll grasp my meaning when I tell you that child shall not be taken away in the dead of night, as if she were being stolen, and she shall not leave this house until she has been decently clothed and made ready to go. I never heard of such an outrageous thing in my life.” She turned with fear, yet with severity, toward Thornburg. When she spoke again it might have seemed that she regarded the manager as a kind of trained wolf over whom her son might possess an influence. “Victor, tell him to go away!” she commanded. “When I want him to come back I’ll let you know.” She turned with the air of a queen who had been affronted. In an instant she had disappeared. The door had been quite unmistakably slammed behind her. CHAPTER XII RELATES TO THE PLAYING OF PARTS Much light is thrown upon the character of Victor Baron when it is said that he was the kind of young man who likes to sit in an attic when the rain is falling.