“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.