She was an actress, born and bred, and some day she would surely hear the call of the theatre. Not in the near future certainly. Baron couldn’t bear to associate children and the stage. But in a few years.... And if she were ever to return to the profession which was her birthright, it was Thornburg she would need, and not the Barons. Moreover, Thornburg was a wealthy man, and childless. He was now ready to take the child into his home as his own. There could be only one outcome to such an arrangement--an outcome wholly in Bonnie May’s favor. Therefore, his--Baron’s--right to keep the child was of the shakiest possible nature. And having reached these two conclusions, dwelling now upon the one and now upon the other, Baron extinguished his light and went to bed. * * * * * In the morning at about seven o’clock, while he was standing before the glass with a military hair-brush in his hand, his problem was solved for him in a flash. He stood with the brush suspended in air. A light leaped into his eyes. “How simple!” he exclaimed. “The very way out of it. The only way.” * * * * * At three o’clock that afternoon he entered Thornburg’s private office, after having taken the precaution of ascertaining (1st) that Thornburg had returned from luncheon in a fairly good humor, and (2d) that the manager was alone. “You know I had a little talk with Mrs. Thornburg about Bonnie May last night,” he began, when Thornburg had thrust a chair toward him. He was assuming his most casual manner, primarily because it suited his present purpose, and also because he had not failed to note that Thornburg’s face had darkened slightly at sight of him. “Yes, I know.” The manager glanced at his desk as if he were a very busy man. “I felt the least bit--up a tree, as the fellow said, after I had talked to her,” continued Baron. “You know I want to--to be decent about things.” “Of course,” agreed the manager, giving part of his attention to the papers which were strewn about his desk. “And I suppose the child is a good deal of a burden----” He glanced up, and Baron wondered why a man shouldn’t be able to keep the light of triumph out of his eyes when he really tried to. “Not at all!” he interrupted blandly. “----or that you are sure she will be, when the novelty of having her about wears off.” He squared about sharply, with the air of a man who means to do something handsome. “I’m still ready to take her, if you decide that you’d like to give her up. Of course, I don’t know how soon I might change my mind. In case Mrs. Thornburg loses interest, I’d be through with the case, naturally.” He turned to his desk again and examined a letter which came uppermost, frowning and pursing his lips as if he were giving it deep consideration.