However, as Baron was leaving the manager’s office, Thornburg called him back. “By the way,” he said, “it is possible Mrs. Thornburg may have something interesting to tell you. I just happened to remember that she asked me to invite you up to the house when I saw you. I believe she mentioned Bonnie May. Suppose you drop around as soon as it’s convenient.”
On his way home that afternoon, Baron thought of the manager’s message and his manner, and again he became suspicious. He couldn’t help believing that Thornburg knew more than he admitted. But then, he concluded, perhaps he was only innocently plotting to get possession of the child for whom there now appeared to be no lawful claimant.
When he reached home his mother was the first person he encountered, and he surmised by her manner that this circumstance was a result of her own design and management.
“Anything wrong, mother?” he asked. He had visions of kidnappers watching the house from hidden points of vantage.
Mrs. Baron led the way into the dining-room and took a seat in the bay window overlooking the anæmic grass-plot.
“Yes—entirely wrong,” she responded. “Do you know what this country had after the Civil War?”
“Of course. It had peace.”
“It had reconstruction.”
“Oh!—reconstruction. Certainly.”
“That’s what I’m going to have in this household.”