“Never mind, Victor,” said Mrs. Baron pointedly. She addressed herself to Bonnie May. “What you’ve been accustomed to may not be quite so important as what you ought to become accustomed to,” she said. “Come!”
The child sauntered thoughtfully from the room. She had been impressed by the fact that even Baron had not seemed surprised by the suggestion that she ought to go to bed. She was trying to comprehend the situation. After all, people who were not of the profession had ways of their own, she realized. If they had all decided to go to bed, she wouldn’t have minded so much. But they were laying down a special law for her.
Rebellion triumphed again. In Mrs. Baron’s room she halted. “Where am I to sleep?” she inquired.
“I think you heard me tell Mrs. Shepard to prepare a room.”
“In the attic? Yes. But I’m not going to sleep there.”
“Indeed, you are.”
“I beg your pardon! Not under any circumstances!”
Mrs. Baron lifted her fingers to her lips and coughed—a very inexpert cough. “You’ll have to do as I tell you, you know.” She resumed a resolute march toward the hall, her hand pressed firmly against Bonnie May’s back.
The child jerked away with a sense of outrage. She had never been treated so before.
“Truly, you’ll have to obey me,” repeated Mrs. Baron.