Discovering that it was merely Jimmy “on the wire,” Zoie's uneasiness abated, but Aggie's anxiety was visibly increasing.
“Where ARE you?” she asked of her spouse. “The Children's Home!” she repeated, then followed further explanations from Jimmy which were apparently not satisfactory. “Oh, Jimmy!” cried his disturbed wife, “it can't be! That's horrible!”
“What is it?” shrieked Zoie, trying to get her small ear close enough to the receiver to catch a bit of the obviously terrifying message.
“Wait a minute,” called Aggie into the 'phone. Then she turned to Zoie with a look of despair. “The mother's changed her mind,” she explained; “she won't give up the baby.”
“Good Lord!” cried Zoie, and she sank into the nearest chair. For an instant the two women looked at each other with blank faces. “What can we DO,” asked Zoie.
Aggie did not answer immediately. This was indeed a serious predicament; but presently Zoie saw her friend's mouth becoming very resolute, and she surmised that Aggie had solved the problem. “We'll have to get ANOTHER baby, that's all,” decided Aggie. “There must be OTHER babies.”
“Where?” asked Zoie.
“There, in the Children's Home,” answered Aggie with great confidence, and she returned to the 'phone.
Zoie crossed to the bed and knelt at its foot in search of her little pink slippers.
“Oh, Aggie,” she sighed, “the others were all so red!”
But Aggie did not heed her protest. “Listen, Jimmy,” she called in the 'phone, “can't you get another baby?” There was a pause, then Aggie commanded hotly, “Well, GET in the business!” Another pause and then Aggie continued very firmly, “Tell the Superintendent that we JUST MUST have one.”
Zoie stopped in the act of putting on her second slipper and called a reminder to Aggie. “Tell him to get a HE one,” she said, “Alfred wants a boy.”
“Take what you can get!” answered Aggie impatiently, and again she gave her attention to the 'phone. “What!” she cried, with growing despair, and Zoie waited to hear what had gone wrong now. “Nothing under three months,” explained Aggie.
“Won't that do?” asked Zoie innocently.
“Do!” echoed Aggie in disgust. “A three-months' old baby is as big as a whale.”
“Well, can't we say it GREW UP?” asked Zoie, priding herself on her power of ready resource.
“Overnight, like a mushroom?” sneered Aggie.
Almost vanquished by her friend's new air of cold superiority, Zoie was now on the verge of tears. “Somebody must have a new baby,” she faltered. “Somebody ALWAYS has a new baby.”
“For their own personal USE, yes,” admitted Aggie, “but who has a new baby for US?”
“How do I know?” asked Zoie helplessly. “You're the one who ought to know. You got me into this, and you've GOT to get me out of it. Can you imagine,” she asked, growing more and more unhappy, “what would happen to me if Alfred were to come home now and not find a baby? He wouldn't forgive a LITTLE lie, what would he do with a WHOPPER like this?” Then with sudden decision, she rushed toward the 'phone. “Let me talk to Jimmy,” she said, and the next moment she was chattering so rapidly and incoherently over the 'phone that Aggie despaired of hearing one word that she said, and retired to the next room to think out a new plan of action.
“Say, Jimmy,” stammered Zoie into the 'phone, “you've GOT to get me a baby. If you don't, I'll kill myself! I will, Jimmy, I will. You got me into this, Jimmy,” she reminded him. “You've GOT to get me out of it.” And then followed pleadings and coaxings and cajolings, and at length, a pause, during which Jimmy was apparently able to get in a word or so. His answer was not satisfactory to Zoie. “What!” she shrieked, tiptoeing to get her lips closer to the receiver; then she added with conviction, “the mother has no business to change her mind.”
Apparently Jimmy maintained that the mother had changed it none the less.
“Well, take it away from her,” commanded Zoie. “Get it quick, while she isn't looking.” Then casting a furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure that Aggie was still out of the room, she indulged in a few dark threats to Jimmy, also some vehement reminders of how he had DRAGGED her into that horrid old restaurant and been the immediate cause of all the misfortunes that had ever befallen her.
Could Jimmy have been sure that Aggie was out of ear-shot of Zoie's conversation, the argument would doubtless have kept up indefinitely—as it was—the result was a quick acquiescence on his part and by the time that Aggie returned to the room, Zoie was wreathed in smiles.
“It's all right,” she said sweetly. “Jimmy's going to get it.”
Aggie looked at her sceptically. “Goodness knows I hope so,” she said, then added in despair, “Look at your cheeks. They're flaming.”
Once more the powder puff was called into requisition, and Zoie turned a temporarily blanched face to Aggie. “Is that better?” she asked.
“Very much,” answered Aggie, “but how about your hair?”
“What's the matter with it?” asked Zoie. Her reflection betrayed a coiffure that might have turned Marie Antoinette green with envy.
“Would anybody think you'd been in bed for days?” asked Aggie.
“Alfred likes it that way,” was Zoie's defence.
“Turn around,” said Aggie, without deigning to argue the matter further. And she began to remove handfuls of hairpins from the yellow knotted curls.
“What are you doing?” exclaimed Zoie, as she sprayed her white neck and arms with her favourite perfume.
Aggie did not answer.
Zoie leaned forward toward the mirror to smooth out her eyebrows with the tips of her perfumed fingers. “Good gracious,” she cried in horror as she caught sight of her reflection. “You're not going to put my hair in a pigtail!”
“That's the way invalids always have their hair,” was Aggie's laconic reply, and she continued to plait the obstinate curls.
“I won't have it like that!” declared Zoie, and she shook herself free from Aggie's unwelcome attentions and proceeded to unplait the hateful pigtail. “Alfred would leave me.”
Aggie shrugged her shoulders.
“If you're going to make a perfect fright of me,” pouted Zoie, “I just won't see him.”
“He isn't coming to see YOU,” reminded Aggie. “He's coming to see the baby.”
“If Jimmy doesn't come soon, I'll not HAVE any baby,” answered Zoie.
“Get into bed,” said Aggie, and she proceeded to turn down the soft lace coverlets.
“Where did I put my cap?” asked Zoie. Her eyes caught the small knot of lace and ribbons for which she was looking, and she pinned it on top of her saucy little curls.
“In you go,” said Aggie, motioning to the bed.
“Wait,” said Zoie impressively, “wait till I get my rose lights on the pillow.” She pulled the slender gold chain of her night lamp; instantly the large white pillows were bathed in a warm pink glow—she studied the effect very carefully, then added a lingerie pillow to the two more formal ones, kicked off her slippers and hopped into bed. One more glance at the pillows, then she arranged the ribbons of her negligee to fall “carelessly” outside the coverlet, threw one arm gracefully above her head, half-closed her eyes, and sank languidly back against her pillows.
“How's that?” she breathed faintly.
Controlling her impulse to smile, Aggie crossed to the dressing-table with a business-like air and applied to Zoie's pink cheeks a third coating of powder.
Zoie sat bolt upright and began to sneeze. “Aggie,” she said, “I just hate you when you act like that.” But suddenly she was seized with a new idea.
“I wonder,” she mused as she looked across the room at the soft, pink sofa bathed in firelight, “I wonder if I shouldn't look better on that couch under those roses.”
Aggie was very emphatic in her opinion to the contrary. “Certainly not!” she said.
“Then,” decided Zoie with a mischievous smile, “I'll get Alfred to carry me to the couch. That way I can get my arms around his neck. And once you get your arms around a man's neck, you can MANAGE him.”
Aggie looked down at the small person with distinct disapproval. “Now, don't you make too much fuss over Alfred,” she continued. “YOU'RE the one who's to do the forgiving. Don't forget that! What's more,” she reminded Zoie, “you're very, very weak.” But before she had time to instruct Zoie further there was a sharp, quick ring at the outer door.
The two women glanced at each other inquiringly. The next instant a man's step was heard in the hallway.
“How is she, Mary?” demanded someone in a voice tense with anxiety.
“It's Alfred!” exclaimed Zoie.
“And we haven't any baby!” gasped Aggie.
“What shall I do?” cried Zoie.
“Lie down,” commanded Aggie, and Zoie had barely time to fall back limply on the pillows when the excited young husband burst into the room.
When Alfred entered Zoie's bedroom he glanced about him in bewilderment. It appeared that he was in an enchanted chamber. Through the dim rose light he could barely perceive his young wife. She was lying white and apparently lifeless on her pillows. He moved cautiously toward the bed, but Aggie raised a warning finger. Afraid to speak, he grasped Aggie's hand and searched her face for reassurance; she nodded toward Zoie, whose eyes were closed. He tiptoed to the bedside, sank on his knees and reverently kissed the small hand that hung limply across the side of the bed.
To Alfred's intense surprise, his lips had barely touched Zoie's fingertips when he felt his head seized in a frantic embrace. “Alfred, Alfred!” cried Zoie in delight; then she smothered his face with kisses. As she lifted her head to survey her astonished husband, she caught the reproving eye of Aggie. With a weak little sigh, she relaxed her tenacious hold of Alfred, breathed his name very faintly, and sank back, apparently exhausted, upon her pillows.
“It's been too much for her,” said the terrified young husband, and he glanced toward Aggie in anxiety.
Aggie nodded assent.
“How pale she looks,” added Alfred, as he surveyed the white face on the pillows.
“She's so weak, poor dear,” sympathised Aggie, almost in a whisper.
Alfred nodded his understanding to Aggie. It was then that his attention was for the first time attracted toward the crib.
“My boy!” he exclaimed. And again Zoie forgot Aggie's warning and sat straight up in bed. But Alfred did not see her. He was making determinedly for the crib, his heart beating high with the pride of possession.
Throwing back the coverlets of the bassinette, Alfred stared at the empty bed in silence, then he quickly turned to the two anxious women. “Where is he?” he asked, his eyes wide with terror.
Zoie's lips opened to answer, but no words came.
Alfred's eyes turned to Aggie. The look on her face increased his worst fears. “Don't tell me he's——” he could not bring himself to utter the word. He continued to look helplessly from one woman to the other.
In vain Zoie again tried to answer. Aggie also made an unsuccessful attempt to speak. Then, driven to desperation by the strain of the situation, Zoie declared boldly: “He's out.”
“Out?” echoed Alfred in consternation.
“With Jimmy,” explained Aggie, coming to Zoie's rescue as well as she knew how.
“Jimmy!” repeated Alfred in great astonishment.
“Just for a breath of air,” explained Zoie sweetly She had now entirely regained her self-possession.
“Isn't he very young to be out at night?” asked Alfred with a puzzled frown.
“We told Jimmy that,” answered Aggie, amazed at the promptness with which each succeeding lie presented itself. “But you see,” she continued, “Jimmy is so crazy about the child that we can't do anything with him.”
“Jimmy crazy about my baby?” exclaimed Alfred incredulously. “He always said babies were 'little red worms.'”
“Not this one,” answered Zoie sweetly.
“No, indeed,” chimed in Aggie. “He acts as though he owned it.”
“Oh, DOES he?” exclaimed Alfred hotly. “I'll soon put a stop to that,” he declared. “Where did he take him?”
Again the two women looked at each other inquiringly, then Aggie stammered evasively.
“Oh, j-just downstairs—somewhere.”
“I'll LOOK j-just downstairs somewhere,” decided Alfred, and he snatched up his hat and started toward the door.
“Alfred!” cried Zoie in alarm.
Coming back to her bedside to reassure her, Alfred was caught in a frantic embrace. “I'll be back in a minute, dear,” he said, but Zoie clung to him and pleaded desperately.
“You aren't going to leave me the very first thing?”
Alfred hesitated. He had no wish to be cruel to Zoie, but the thought of Jimmy out in the street with his baby at this hour of the night was not to be borne.
Zoie renewed her efforts at persuasion. “Now, dearie,” she said, “I wish you'd go get shaved and wash up a bit. I don't wish baby to see you looking so horrid.”
“Yes, do, Alfred,” insisted Aggie. “He's sure to be here in a minute.”
“My boy won't care HOW his father looks,” declared Alfred proudly, and Zoie told Aggie afterward that his chest had momentarily expanded three inches.
“ButIcare,” persisted Zoie. “First impressions are so important.”
“Now, Zoie,” cautioned Aggie, as she crossed toward the bed with affected solicitude. “You mustn't excite yourself.”
Zoie was quick to understand the suggested change in her tactics, and again she sank back on her pillows apparently ill and faint.
Utterly vanquished by the dire result of his apparently inhuman thoughtlessness, Alfred glanced at Aggie, uncertain as to how to repair the injury.
Aggie beckoned to him to come away from the bed.
“Let her have her own way,” she whispered with a significant glance toward Zoie.
Alfred nodded understandingly and put a finger to his lips to signify that he would henceforth speak in hushed tones, then he tiptoed back to the bed and gently stroked the curls from Zoie's troubled forehead.
“There now, dear,” he whispered, “lie still and rest and I'll go shave and wash up a bit.”
Zoie sighed her acquiescence.
“Mind,” he whispered to Aggie, “you are to call me the moment my boy comes,” and then he slipped quietly into the bedroom.
No sooner had Alfred crossed the threshold, than Zoie sat up in bed and called in a sharp whisper to Aggie, “What's keeping them?” she asked.
“I can't imagine,” answered Aggie, also in whisper.
“If I had Jimmy here,” declared Zoie vindictively, “I'd wring his little fat neck,” and slipping her little pink toes from beneath the covers, she was about to get out of bed, when Aggie, who was facing Alfred's bedroom door, gave her a warning signal.
Zoie had barely time to get back beneath the covers, when Alfred re-entered the room in search of his satchel. Aggie found it for him quickly.
Alfred glanced solicitously at Zoie's closed eyes. “I'm so sorry,” he apologised to Aggie, and again he slipped softly out of the room.
Aggie and Zoie drew together for consultation.
“Suppose Jimmy can't get the baby,” whispered Zoie.
“In that case, he'd have 'phoned,” argued Aggie.
“Let's 'phone to the Home,” suggested Zoie, “and find——” She was interrupted by Alfred's voice.
“Say, Aggie,” called Alfred from the next room.
“Yes?” answered Aggie sweetly, and she crossed to the door and waited.
“Hasn't he come yet?” called Alfred impatiently.
“Not yet, Alfred,” said Aggie, and she closed the door very softly, lest Alfred should hear her.
“I never knew Alfred could be so silly!” snapped Zoie.
“Sh! sh!” warned Aggie, and she glanced anxiously toward Alfred's door.
“He doesn't care a bit about me!” complained Zoie. “It's all that horrid old baby that he's never seen.”
“If Jimmy doesn't come soon, he never WILL see it,” declared Aggie, and she started toward the window to look out.
Just then there was a short quick ring of the bell. The two women glanced at each other with mingled hope and fear. Then their eyes sought the door expectantly.
With the collar of his long ulster pushed high and the brim of his derby hat pulled low, Jimmy Jinks crept cautiously into the room. When he at length ceased to glance over his shoulder and came to a full stop, Aggie perceived a bit of white flannel hanging beneath the hem of his tightly buttoned coat.
“You've GOT it!” she cried.
“Where is it?” asked Zoie.
“Give it to me,” demanded Aggie.
Jimmy stared at them as though stupefied, then glanced uneasily over his shoulder, to make sure that no one was pursuing him. Aggie unbuttoned his ulster, seized a wee mite wrapped in a large shawl, and clasped it to her bosom with a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven!” she exclaimed, then crossed quickly to the bassinette and deposited her charge.
In the meantime, having thrown discretion to the wind, Zoie had hopped out of bed. As usual, her greeting to Jimmy was in the nature of a reproach. “What kept you?” she demanded crossly.
“Yes,” chimed in Aggie, who was now bending over the crib. “What made you so long?”
“See here!” answered Jimmy hotly, “if you two think you can do any better, you're welcome to the job,” and with that he threw off his overcoat and sank sullenly on the couch.
“Sh! sh!” exclaimed Zoie and Aggie, simultaneously, and they glanced nervously toward Alfred's bedroom door.
Jimmy looked at them without comprehending why he should “sh.” They did not bother to explain. Instead, Zoie turned her back upon him.
“Let's see it,” she said, peeping into the bassinette. And then with a little cry of disgust she again looked at Jimmy reproachfully. “Isn't it ugly?” she said. Jimmy's contempt for woman's ingratitude was too deep for words, and he only stared at her in injured silence. But his reflections were quickly upset when Alfred called from the next room, to inquire again about Baby.
“Alfred's here!” whispered Jimmy, beginning to realise the meaning of the women's mysterious behaviour.
“Sh! sh!” said Aggie again to Jimmy, and Zoie flew toward the bed, almost vaulting over the footboard in her hurry to get beneath the covers.
For the present Alfred did not disturb them further. Apparently he was still occupied with his shaving, but just as Jimmy was about to ask for particulars, the 'phone rang. The three culprits glanced guiltily at each other.
“Who's that?” whispered Zoie in a frightened voice.
Aggie crossed to the 'phone. “Hello,” she called softly. “The Children's Home?” she exclaimed.
Jimmy paused in the act of sitting and turned his round eyes toward the 'phone.
Aggie's facial expression was not reassuring. “But we can't,” she was saying; “that's impossible.”
“What is it?” called Zoie across the foot of the bed, unable longer to endure the suspense.
Aggie did not answer. She was growing more and more excited. “A thief!” she cried wildly, over the 'phone. “How dare you call my husband a thief!”
Jimmy was following the conversation with growing interest.
“Wait a minute,” said Aggie, then she left the receiver hanging by the cord and turned to the expectant pair behind her. “It's the Children's Home,” she explained. “That awful woman says Jimmy STOLE her baby!”
“What!” exclaimed Zoie as though such depravity on Jimmy's part were unthinkable. Then she looked at him accusingly, and asked in low, measured tones, “DID you STEAL HER BABY, JIMMY?”
“Didn't you tell me to?” asked Jimmy hotly. “Not literally,” corrected Aggie.
“How else COULD I steal a baby?” demanded Jimmy.
Zoie looked at the unfortunate creature as if she could strangle him, and Aggie addressed him with a threat in her voice.
“Well, the Superintendent says you've got to bring it straight back.”
“I'd like to see myself!” said Jimmy.
“He sha'n't bring it back,” declared Zoie. “I'll not let him!”
“What shall I tell the Superintendent?” asked Aggie, “he's holding the wire.”
“Tell him he can't have it,” answered Zoie, as though that were the end of the whole matter.
“Well,” concluded Aggie, “he says if Jimmy DOESN'T bring it back the mother's coming after it.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Zoie.
As for Jimmy, he bolted for the door. Aggie caught him by the sleeve as he passed. “Wait, Jimmy,” she said peremptorily. There was a moment of awful indecision, then something approaching an idea came to Zoie.
“Tell the Superintendent that it isn't here,” she whispered to Aggie across the footboard. “Tell him that Jimmy hasn't got here yet.”
“Yes,” agreed Jimmy, “tell him I haven't got here yet.”
Aggie nodded wisely and returned to the 'phone. “Hello,” she called pleasantly; then proceeded to explain. “Mr. Jinks hasn't got here yet.” There was a pause, then she added in her most conciliatory tone, “I'll tell him what you say when he comes in.” Another pause, and she hung up the receiver with a most gracious good-bye and turned to the others with increasing misgivings. “He says he won't be responsible for that mother much longer—she's half-crazy.”
“What right has she to be crazy?” demanded Zoie in an abused voice. “She's a widow. She doesn't need a baby.”
“Well,” decided Aggie after careful deliberation, “you'd better take it back, Jimmy, before Alfred sees it.”
“What?” exclaimed Zoie in protest. And again Jimmy bolted, but again he failed to reach the door.
His face covered with lather, and a shaving brush in one hand, Alfred entered the room just as his friend was about to escape.
“Jimmy!” exclaimed the excited young father, “you're back.”
“Oh, yes—yes,” admitted Jimmy nervously, “I'm back.”
“My boy!” cried Alfred, and he glanced toward the crib. “He's here!”
“Yes—yes,” agreed Aggie uneasily, as she tried to place herself between Alfred and the bassinette. “He's here, but you mayn't have him, Alfred.”
“What?” exclaimed Alfred, trying to put her out of the way.
“Not yet,” protested Aggie, “not just yet.”
“Give him to me,” demanded Alfred, and thrusting Aggie aside, he took possession of the small mite in the cradle.
“But—but, Alfred,” pleaded Aggie, “your face. You'll get him all wet.”
Alfred did not heed her. He was bending over the cradle in an ecstasy. “My boy!” he cried, “my boy!” Lifting the baby in his arms he circled the room cooing to him delightedly.
“Was he away from home when his fadder came? Oh, me, oh, my! Coochy! Coochy! Coochy!” Suddenly he remembered to whom he owed this wondrous treasure and forgetful of the lather on his unshaven face he rushed toward Zoie with an overflowing heart. “My precious!” he exclaimed, and he covered her cheek with kisses.
“Go away!” cried Zoie in disgust and she pushed Alfred from her and brushed the hateful lather from her little pink check.
But Alfred was not to be robbed of his exaltation, and again he circled the room, making strange gurgling sounds to Baby.
“Did a horrid old Jimmy take him away from fadder?” he said sympathetically, in the small person's ear; and he glanced at Jimmy with frowning disapproval. “I'd just like to see him get you away from me again!” he added to Baby, as he tickled the mite's ear with the end of his shaving brush. “Oh, me! oh, my!” he exclaimed in trepidation, as he perceived a bit of lather on the infant's cheek. Then lifting the boy high in his arms and throwing out his chest with great pride, he looked at Jimmy with an air of superiority. “I guess I'm bad, aye?” he said.
Jimmy positively blushed. As for Zoie, she was growing more and more impatient for a little attention to herself.
“Rock-a-bye, Baby,” sang Alfred in strident tones and he swung the child high in his arms.
Jimmy and Aggie gazed at Alfred as though hypnotised. They kept time to his lullaby out of sheer nervousness. Suddenly Alfred stopped, held the child from him and gazed at it in horror. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. The others waited breathlessly. “Look at that baby's face,” commanded Alfred.
Zoie and Aggie exchanged alarmed glances, then Zoie asked in trepidation, “What's the matter with his face?”
“He's got a fever,” declared Alfred. And he started toward the bed to show the child to its mother.
“Go away!” shrieked Zoie, waving Alfred off in wild alarm.
“What?” asked Alfred, backing from her in surprise.
Aggie crossed quickly to Alfred's side and looked over his shoulder at the boy. “I don't see anything wrong with its face,” she said.
“It's scarlet!” persisted Alfred.
“Oh,” said Jimmy with a superior air, “they're always like that.”
“Nothing of the sort,” snorted Alfred, and he glared at Jimmy threateningly. “You've frozen the child parading him around the streets.”
“Let me have him, Alfred,” begged Aggie sweetly; “I'll put him in his crib and keep him warm.”
Reluctantly Alfred released the boy. His eyes followed him to the crib with anxiety. “Where's his nurse?” he asked, as he glanced first from one to the other.
Zoie and Jimmy stared about the room as though expecting the desired person to drop from the ceiling. Then Zoie turned upon her unwary accomplice.
“Jimmy,” she called in a threatening tone, “where IS his nurse?”
“Does Jimmy take the nurse out, too?” demanded Alfred, more and more annoyed by the privileges Jimmy had apparently been usurping in his absence.
“Never mind about the nurse,” interposed Aggie. “Baby likes me better anyway. I'll tuck him in,” and she bent fondly over the crib, but Alfred was not to be so easily pacified.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he exclaimed excitedly, “that my boy hasn't any nurse?”
“We HAD a nurse,” corrected Zoie, “but—but I had to discharge her.”
Alfred glanced from one to the other for an explanation.
“Discharge her?” he repeated, “for what?”
“She was crazy,” stammered Zoie.
Alfred's eyes sought Aggie's for confirmation. She nodded. He directed his steady gaze toward Jimmy. The latter jerked his head up and down in nervous assent.
“Well,” said Alfred, amazed at their apparent lack of resource, “why didn't you get ANOTHER nurse?”
“Aggie is going to stay and take care of baby to-night,” declared Zoie, and then she beamed upon Aggie as only she knew how. “Aren't you, dear?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes, indeed,” answered Aggie, studiously avoiding Jimmy's eye.
“Baby is going to sleep in the spare room with Aggie and Jimmy,” said Zoie.
“What!” exclaimed Jimmy, too desperate to care what Alfred might infer.
Ignoring Jimmy's implied protest, Zoie continued sweetly to Alfred:
“Now, don't worry, dear; go back to your room and finish your shaving.”
“Finish shaving?” repeated Alfred in a puzzled way. Then his hand went mechanically to his cheek and he stared at Zoie in astonishment. “By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I had forgotten all about it. That shows you how excited I am.” And with a reluctant glance toward the cradle, he went quickly from the room, singing a high-pitched lullaby.
Just as the three conspirators were drawing together for consultation, Alfred returned to the room. It was apparent that there was something important on his mind.
“By the way,” he said, glancing from one to another, “I forgot to ask—what's his name?”
The conspirators looked at each other without answering. To Alfred their delay was annoying. Of course his son had been given his father's name, but he wished to HEAR someone say so.
“Baby's, I mean,” he explained impatiently.
Jimmy felt instinctively that Zoie's eyes were upon him. He avoided her gaze.
“Jimmy!” called Zoie, meaning only to appeal to him for a name.
“Jimmy!” thundered the infuriated Alfred. “You've called my boy 'Jimmy'? Why 'Jimmy'?”
For once Zoie was without an answer.
After waiting in vain for any response, Alfred advanced upon the uncomfortable Jimmy.
“You seem to be very popular around here,” he sneered.
Jimmy shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and studied the pattern of the rug upon which he was standing.
After what seemed an age to Jimmy, Alfred turned his back upon his old friend and started toward his bedroom. Jimmy peeped out uneasily from his long eyelashes. When Alfred reached the threshold, he faced about quickly and stared again at Jimmy for an explanation. It seemed to Jimmy that Alfred's nostrils were dilating. He would not have been surprised to see Alfred snort fire. He let his eyes fall before the awful spectacle of his friend's wrath. Alfred's upper lip began to curl. He cast a last withering look in Jimmy's direction, retired quickly from the scene and banged the door.
When Jimmy again had the courage to lift his eyes he was confronted by the contemptuous gaze of Zoie, who was sitting up in bed and regarding him with undisguised disapproval.
“Why didn't you tell him what the baby's name is?” she demanded.
“How doIknow what the baby's name is?” retorted Jimmy savagely.
“Sh! sh!” cautioned Aggie as she glanced nervously toward the door through which Alfred had just passed.
“What does it matter WHAT the baby's name is so long as we have to send it back?”
“I'll NOT send it back,” declared Zoie emphatically, “at least not until morning. That will give Jimmy a whole night to get another one.”
“Another!” shrieked Jimmy. “See here, you two can't be changing babies every five minutes without Alfred knowing it. Even HE has SOME sense.”
“Nonsense!” answered Aggie shortly. “You know perfectly well that all young babies look just alike. Their own mothers couldn't tell them apart, if it weren't for their clothes.”
“But where can we GET another?” asked Zoie.
Before Aggie could answer, Alfred was again heard calling from the next room. Apparently all his anger had subsided, for he inquired in the most amiable tone as to what baby might be doing and how he might be feeling. Aggie crossed quickly to the door, and sweetly reassured the anxious father, then she closed the door softly and turned to Zoie and Jimmy with a new inspiration lighting her face. “I have it,” she exclaimed ecstatically.
Jimmy regarded his spouse with grave suspicion.
“Now see here,” he objected, “every time YOU 'HAVE IT,' I DO IT. The NEXT time you 'HAVE IT' YOU DO IT!”
The emphasis with which Jimmy made his declaration deserved consideration, but to his amazement it was entirely ignored by both women. Hopping quickly out of bed, without even glancing in his direction, Zoie gave her entire attention to Aggie. “What is it?” she asked eagerly.
“There must be OTHER babies' Homes,” said Aggie, and she glanced at Jimmy from her superior height.
“They aren't open all night like corner drug stores,” growled Jimmy.
“Well, they ought to be,” decided Zoie.
“And surely,” argued Aggie, “in an extraordinary case—like——”
“This was an 'extraordinary case,'” declared Jimmy, “and you saw what happened this time, and the Superintendent is a friend of mine—at least he WAS a friend of mine.” And with that Jimmy sat himself down on the far corner of the couch and proceeded to ruminate on the havoc that these two women had wrought in his once tranquil life.
Zoie gazed at Jimmy in deep disgust; her friend Aggie had made an excellent suggestion, and instead of acting upon it with alacrity, here sat Jimmy sulking like a stubborn child.
“I suppose,” said Zoie, as her eyebrows assumed a bored angle, “there are SOME babies in the world outside of Children's Homes.”
“Of course,” was Aggie's enthusiastic rejoinder; “there's one born every minute.”
“But I was born BETWEEN minutes,” protested Jimmy.
“Who's talking about you?” snapped Zoie.
Again Aggie exclaimed that she “had it.”
“She's got it twice as bad,” groaned Jimmy, and he wondered what new form her persecution of him was about to take.
“Where is the morning paper?” asked Aggie, excitedly.
“We can't advertise NOW,” protested Zoie. “It's too late for that.”
“Sh! Sh!” answered Aggie, as she snatched the paper quickly from the table and began running her eyes up and down its third page. “Married—married,” she murmured, and then with delight she found the half column for which she was searching. “Born,” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Here we are! Get a pencil, Zoie, and we'll take down all the new ones.”
“Of course,” agreed Zoie, clapping her hands in glee, “and Jimmy can get a taxi and look them right up.”
“Oh, CAN he?” shouted Jimmy as he rose with clenched fists. “Now you two, see here——”
Before Jimmy could complete his threat, there was a sharp ring of the door bell. He looked at the two women inquiringly.
“It's the mother,” cried Zoie in a hoarse whisper.
“The mother!” repeated Jimmy in terror and he glanced uncertainly from one door to the other.
“Cover up the baby!” called Zoie, and drawing Jimmy's overcoat quickly from his arm, Aggie threw it hurriedly over the cradle.
For an instant Jimmy remained motionless in the centre of the room, hatless, coatless, and shorn of ideas. A loud knock on the door decided him and he sank with trembling knees behind the nearest armchair, just as Zoie made a flying leap into the bed and prepared to draw the cover over her head.
The knock was repeated and Aggie signalled to Zoie to answer it.
“Come in!” called Zoie very faintly.
From his hiding-place Jimmy peeped around the edge of the armchair and saw what seemed to be a large clothes basket entering the room. Closer inspection revealed the small figure of Maggie, the washerwoman's daughter, propelling the basket, which was piled high with freshly laundered clothing. Jimmy drew a long sigh of relief, and unknotted his cramped limbs.
“Shall I lay the things on the sofa, mum?” asked Maggie as she placed her basket on the floor and waited for Zoie's instructions.
“Yes, please,” answered Zoie, too exhausted for further comment.
Taking the laundry piece by piece from the basket, Maggie made excuses for its delay, while she placed it on the couch. Deaf to Maggie's chatter, Zoie lay back languidly on her pillows; but she soon heard something that lifted her straight up in bed.
“Me mother is sorry she had to kape you waitin' this week,” said Maggie over her shoulder; “but we've got twins at OUR house.”
“Twins!” echoed Zoie and Aggie simultaneously. Then together they stared at Maggie as though she had been dropped from another world.
Finding attention temporarily diverted from himself, Jimmy had begun to rearrange both his mind and his cravat when he felt rather than saw that his two persecutors were regarding him with a steady, determined gaze. In spite of himself, Jimmy raised his eyes to theirs.
“Twins!” was their laconic answer.
Now, Jimmy had heard Maggie's announcement about the bountiful supply of offspring lately arrived at her house, but not until he caught the fanatical gleam in the eyes of his companions did he understand the part they meant him to play in their next adventure. He waited for no explanation—he bolted toward the door.
“Wait, Jimmy,” commanded Aggie. But it was not until she had laid firm hold of him that he waited.
Surprised by such strange behaviour on the part of those whom she considered her superiors, Maggie looked first at Aggie, then at Jimmy, then at Zoie, uncertain whether to go or to stay.
“Anythin' to go back, mum?” she stammered.
Zoie stared at Maggie solemnly from across the foot of the bed. “Maggie,” she asked in a deep, sepulchral tone, “where do you live?”
“Just around the corner on High Street, mum,” gasped Maggie. Then, keeping her eyes fixed uneasily on Zoie she picked up her basket and backed cautiously toward the door.
“Wait!” commanded Zoie; and Maggie paused, one foot in mid-air. “Wait in the hall,” said Zoie.
“Yes'um,” assented Maggie, almost in a whisper. Then she nodded her head jerkily, cast another furtive glance at the three persons who were regarding her so strangely, and slipped quickly through the door.
Having crossed the room and stealthily closed the door, Aggie returned to Jimmy, who was watching her with the furtive expression of a trapped animal.
“It's Providence,” she declared, with a grave countenance.
Jimmy looked up at Aggie with affected innocence, then rolled his round eyes away from her. He was confronted by Zoie, who had approached from the opposite side of the room.
“It's Fate,” declared Zoie, in awe-struck tones.
Jimmy was beginning to wriggle, but he kept up a last desperate presence of not understanding them.
“You needn't tell me I'm going to take the wash to the old lady,” he said, “for I'm not going to do it.”
“It isn't the WASH,” said Aggie, and her tone warned him that she expected no nonsense from him.
“You know what we are thinking about just as well as we do,” said Zoie. “I'll write that washerwoman a note and tell her we must have one of those babies right now.” And with that she turned toward her desk and began rummaging amongst her papers for a pencil and pad. “The luck of these poor,” she murmured.
“The luck of US,” corrected Aggie, whose spirits were now soaring. Then she turned to Jimmy with growing enthusiasm. “Just think of it, dear,” she said, “Fate has sent us a baby to our very door.”
“Well,” declared Jimmy, again beginning to show signs of fight, “if Fate has sent a baby to the door, you don't need me,” and with that he snatched his coat from the crib.
“Wait, Jimmy,” again commanded Aggie, and she took his coat gently but firmly from him.
“Now, see here,” argued Jimmy, trying to get free from his strong-minded spouse, “you know perfectly well that that washerwoman isn't going to let us have that baby.”
“Nonsense,” called Zoie over her shoulder, while she scribbled a hurried note to the washerwoman. “If she won't let us have it 'for keeps,' I'll just 'rent it.'”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Jimmy in genuine horror. “Warm, fresh, palpitating babies rented as you would rent a gas stove!”
“That's all a pose,” declared Aggie, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You think babies 'little red worms,' you've said so.”
Jimmy could not deny it.
“She'll be only too glad to rent it,” declared Zoie, as she glanced hurriedly through the note just written, and slipped it, together with a bill, into an envelope. “I'll pay her anything. It's only until I can get another one.”
“Another!” shouted Jimmy, and his eyes turned heavenward for help. “An endless chain with me to put the links together!”
“Don't be so theatrical,” said Aggie, irritably, as she took up Jimmy's coat and prepared to get him into it.
“Why DO you make such a fuss about NOTHING,” sighed Zoie.
“Nothing?” echoed Jimmy, and he looked at her with wondering eyes. “I crawl about like a thief in the night snatching babies from their mother's breasts, and you call THAT nothing?”
“You don't have to 'CRAWL,'” reminded Zoie, “you can take a taxi.”
“Here's your coat, dear,” said Aggie graciously, as she endeavoured to slip Jimmy's limp arms into the sleeves of the garment.
“You can take Maggie with you,” said Zoie, with the air of conferring a distinct favour upon him.
“And the wash on my lap,” added Jimmy sarcastically.
“No,” said Zoie, unruffled by Jimmy's ungracious behaviour. “We'll send the wash later.”
“That's very kind of you,” sneered Jimmy, as he unconsciously allowed his arms to slip into the sleeves of the coat Aggie was urging upon him.
“All you need to do,” said Aggie complacently, “is to get us the baby.”
“Yes,” said Jimmy, “and what do you suppose my friends would say if they were to see me riding around town with the wash-lady's daughter and a baby on my lap? What would YOU say?” he asked Aggie, “if you didn't know the facts?”
“Nobody's going to see you,” answered Aggie impatiently; “it's only around the corner. Go on, Jimmy, be a good boy.”
“You mean a good thing,” retorted Jimmy without budging from the spot.
“How ridiculous!” exclaimed Zoie; “it's as easy as can be.”
“Yes, the FIRST one SOUNDED easy, too,” said Jimmy.
“All you have to do,” explained Zoie, trying to restrain her rising intolerance of his stupidity, “is to give this note to Maggie's mother. She'll give you her baby, you bring it back here, we'll give you THIS one, and you can take it right back to the Home.”
“And meet the other mother,” concluded Jimmy with a shake of his head.
There was a distinct threat in Zoie's voice when she again addressed the stubborn Jimmy and the glitter of triumph was in her eyes.
“You'd better meet here THERE than HERE,” she warned him; “you know what the Superintendent said.”
“That's true,” agreed Aggie with an anxious face. “Come now,” she pleaded, “it will only take a minute; you can do the whole thing before you have had time to think.”
“Before I have had time to think,” repeated Jimmy excitedly. “That's how you get me to do everything. Well, this time I've HAD time to think and I don't think I will!” and with that he threw himself upon the couch, unmindful of the damage to the freshly laundered clothes.
“Get up,” cried Zoie.
“You haven't time to sit down,” said Aggie.
“I'll TAKE time,” declared Jimmy. His eyes blinked ominously and he remained glued to the couch.
There was a short silence; the two women gazed at Jimmy in despair. Remembering a fresh grievance, Jimmy turned upon them.
“By the way,” he said, “do you two know that I haven't had anything to eat yet?”
“And do you know,” said Zoie, “that Alfred may be back at any minute? He can't stay away forever.”
“Not unless he has cut his throat,” rejoined Jimmy, “and that's what I'd do if I had a razor.”
Zoie regarded Jimmy as though he were beyond redemption. “Can't you ever think of anybody but yourself?” she asked, with a martyred air.
Had Jimmy been half his age, Aggie would have felt sure that she saw him make a face at her friend for answer. As it was, she resolved to make one last effort to awaken her unobliging spouse to a belated sense of duty.
“You see, dear,” she said, “you might better get the washerwoman's baby than to go from house to house for one,” and she glanced again toward the paper.
“Yes,” urged Zoie, “and that's just what you'll HAVE to do, if you don't get this one.”
Jimmy's head hung dejectedly. It was apparent that his courage was slipping from him. Aggie was quick to realise her opportunity, and before Jimmy could protect himself from her treacherous wiles, she had slipped one arm coyly about his neck.
“Now, Jimmy,” she pleaded as she pressed her soft cheek to his throbbing temple, and toyed with the bay curl on his perspiring forehead, “wont you do this little teeny-weepy thing just for me?”
Jimmy's lips puckered in a pout; he began to blink nervously. Aggie slipped her other arm about his neck.
“You know,” she continued with a baby whine, “I got Zoie into this, and I've just got to get her out of it. You're not going to desert me, are you, Jimmy? You WILL help me, won't you, dear?” Her breath was on Jimmy's cheek; he could feel her lips stealing closer to his. He had not been treated to much affection of late. His head drooped lower—he began to twiddle the fob on his watch chain. “Won't you?” persisted Aggie.
Jimmy studied the toes of his boots.
“Won't you?” she repeated, and her soft eyelashes just brushed the tip of his retrousee nose.
Jimmy's head was now wagging from side to side.
“Won't you?” she entreated a fourth time, and she kissed him full on the lips.
With a resigned sigh, Jimmy rose mechanically from the heap of crushed laundry and held out his fat chubby hand.
“Give me the letter,” he groaned.
“Here you are,” said Zoie, taking Jimmy's acquiescence as a matter of course; and she thrust the letter into the pocket of Jimmy's ulster. “Now, when you get back with the baby,” she continued, “don't come in all of a sudden; just wait outside and whistle. You CAN WHISTLE, can't you?” she asked with a doubtful air.
For answer, Jimmy placed two fingers between his lips and produced a shrill whistle that made both Zoie and Aggie glance nervously toward Alfred's bedroom door.
“Yes, you can WHISTLE,” admitted Zoie, then she continued her directions. “If Alfred is not in the room, I'll raise the shade and you can come right up.”
“And if he is in the room?” asked Jimmy with a fine shade of sarcasm.
“If he IS in the room,” explained Zoie, “you must wait outside until I can get rid of him.”
Jimmy turned his eyes toward Aggie to ask if it were possible that she still approved of Zoie's inhuman plan. For answer Aggie stroked his coat collar fondly.
“We'll give you the signal the moment the coast is clear,” she said, then she hurriedly buttoned Jimmy's large ulster and wound a muffler about his neck. “There now, dear, do go, you're all buttoned up,” and with that she urged him toward the door.
“Just a minute,” protested Jimmy, as he paused on the threshold. “Let me get this right, if the shade is up, I stay down.”
“Not at all,” corrected Aggie and Zoie in a breath. “If the shade is up, you come up.”
Jimmy cast another martyred look in Zoie's direction.
“You won't hurry will you?” he said, “you know it is only twenty-three below zero and I haven't had anything to eat yet—and——”
“Yes, we know,” interrupted the two women in chorus, and then Aggie added wearily, “go on, Jimmy; don't be funny.”
“Funny?” snorted Jimmy. “With a baby on my lap and the wash lady's daughter, I won't be funny, oh no!”
It is doubtful whether Jimmy would not have worked himself into another state of open rebellion had not Aggie put an end to his protests by thrusting him firmly out of the room and closing the door behind him. After this act of heroic decision on her part, the two women listened intently, fearing that he might return; but presently they heard the bang of the outer door, and at last they drew a long breath of relief. For the first time since Alfred's arrival, Aggie was preparing to sink into a chair, when she was startled by a sharp exclamation from Zoie.
“Good heavens,” cried Zoie, “I forgot to ask Maggie.”
“Ask her what?” questioned Aggie.
“Boys or girls,” said Zoie, with a solemn look toward the door through which Jimmy had just disappeared.
“Well,” decided Aggie, after a moment's reflection, “it's too late now. Anyway,” she concluded philosophically, “we couldn't CHANGE it.”