The two gentlemen turned about, and at the sight of the child they became far less correct in their general deportment. Happiness made them quite unconscious of self.
Very shortly afterward a little girl was sitting between two altogether presentable gentlemen on the top step in front of the Baron mansion.
“Of course we shouldn’t,” admitted Bonnie May. “We never sit on the front steps. I mean, the Family. But nobody will know. And, besides, I don’t see how we can help ourselves.”
“We don’t mind at all,” Clifton assured her. He looked inquiringly over his shoulder, into the vestibule. “What is it?—an old ladies’ home?”
“Not exactly. It’s one old lady’s home, and you couldn’t get in without a jimmy or a letter of introduction. She used to be a Boone.”
“Of course that explains it,” said Clifton. “What are you doing here? Does she give private theatricals?”
“Not intentionally. No, I’m the little daughter of the house—a kind of Little Eva, without any dogs or fiddles, and I have to go to bed at nine o’clock, and take lessons. It’s really a wonderful place. When we all sit down to the table it—it sticks. When I get across with anything neat nobody whistles. Far from it.”
Clifton and Jack accepted all this as quite definitely informative.
“Domesticated,” explained Clifton to Jack, who nodded.
“How did you find them?” Jack wanted to know.