“But there is somewhere to go. I’m going to write up the Fairyland opening. Would you like to go with me?”
“No, thank you.”
It was clearly understood that Baron’s question had been put in a spirit of jest. It was understood that Flora and her kind did not go to the Fairylands—and their kind.
But Bonnie May failed to grasp the situation.
“What’s Fairyland?” she inquired.
“A large enclosure occupied entirely by mad people, and with a theatre in one corner.”
She ignored the reference to mad people. “Oh! a theatre. What are they playing?”
“A piece called ‘The Second Mrs. Tanqueray,’” said Baron.
She sat up, swiftly erect, and clasped her hands. “How fine!” was her comment. “Do you think you could take me?”
“I should say not!” Baron responded without thinking. His unthinking refusal was a result of the habitual Baron attitude. But as he regarded her thoughtfully, and noted the puzzled inquiry in her glance, he couldn’t quite understand why he had been so emphatic, so confident of being right. “It’s not a play a little girl would care for,” he added, now on the defensive.