With more or less damage to himself consequent on his excitement, Alfred completed his shaving and hastened to return to his wife and the babe. Finding the supposedly ill Zoie careering about the centre of the room expostulating with Aggie, the young man stopped dumbfounded on the threshold.
“Zoie,” he cried in astonishment. “What are you doing out of bed?”
For an instant the startled Zoie gazed at him stupefied.
“Why, I—I——” Her eyes sought Aggie's for a suggestion; there was no answer there. It was not until her gaze fell upon the cradle that she was seized by the desired inspiration.
“I just got up to see baby,” she faltered, then putting one hand giddily to her head, she pretended to sway.
In an instant Alfred's arms were about her. He bore her quickly to the bed. “You stay here, my darling,” he said tenderly. “I'll bring baby to you,” and after a solicitous caress he turned toward baby's crib and bent fondly over the little one. “Ah, there's father's man,” he said. “Was he lonesome baby? Oh, goodis g'acious,” then followed an incoherent muttering of baby talk, as he bore the youngster toward Zoie's bed. “Come, my precious,” he called to Zoie, as he sank down on the edge of the bed. “See mother's boy.”
“Mother!” shrieked Zoie in horror. It had suddenly dawned upon her that this was the name by which Alfred would no doubt call her for the rest of her life. She almost detested him.
But Alfred did not see the look of disgust on Zoie's face. He was wholly absorbed by baby.
“What a funny face,” he cooed as he pinched the youngster's cheek. “Great Scott, what a grip,” he cried as the infant's fingers closed around his own. “Will you look at the size of those hands,” he exclaimed.
Zoie and Aggie exchanged worried glances; the baby had no doubt inherited his large hands from his mother.
“Say, Aggie,” called Alfred, “what are all of these little specks on baby's forehead?” He pointed toward the infant's brow. “One, two, three,” he counted.
Zoie was becoming more and more uncomfortable at the close proximity of the little stranger.
“Oh,” said Aggie, with affected carelessness as she leaned over Alfred's shoulder and glanced at baby's forehead. “That is just a little rash.”
“A rash!” exclaimed Alfred excitedly, “that's dangerous, isn't it? We'd better call up the doctor.” And he rose and started hurriedly toward the telephone, baby in arms.
“Don't be silly,” called Zoie, filled with vague alarm at the thought of the family physician's appearance and the explanations that this might entail.
Stepping between Alfred and the 'phone, Aggie protested frantically. “You see, Alfred,” she said, “it is better to have the rash OUT, it won't do any harm unless it turns IN.”
“He's perfectly well,” declared Zoie, “if you'll only put him in his crib and leave him alone.”
Alfred looked down at his charge. “Is that right, son?” he asked, and he tickled the little fellow playfully in the ribs. “I'll tell you what,” he called over his shoulder to Zoie, “he's a fine looking boy.” And then with a mysterious air, he nodded to Aggie to approach. “Whom does he look like?” he asked.
Again Zoie sat up in anxiety. Aggie glanced at her, uncertain what answer to make.
“I—I hadn't thought,” she stammered weakly.
“Go on, go on,” exclaimed the proud young father, “you can't tell me that you can look at that boy and not see the resemblance.”
“To whom?” asked Aggie, half fearfully.
“Why,” said Alfred, “he's the image of Zoie.”
Zoie gazed at the puckered red face in Alfred's arms. “What!” she shrieked in disgust, then fall back on her pillows and drew the lace coverlet over her face.
Mistaking Zoie's feeling for one of embarrassment at being over-praised, Alfred bore the infant to her bedside. “See, dear,” he persisted, “see for yourself, look at his forehead.”
“I'd rather look at you,” pouted Zoie, peeping from beneath the coverlet, “if you would only put that thing down for a minute.”
“Thing?” exclaimed Alfred, as though doubting his own ears. But before he could remonstrate further, Zoie's arms were about his neck and she was pleading jealously for his attention.
“Please, Alfred,” she begged, “I have scarcely had a look at you, yet.”
Alfred shook his head and turned to baby with an indulgent smile. It was pleasant to have two such delightful creatures bidding for his entire attention.
“Dear me,” he said to baby. “Dear me, tink of mudder wanting to look at a big u'gy t'ing like fadder, when she could look at a 'itty witty t'ing like dis,” and he rose and crossed to the crib where he deposited the small creature with yet more gurgling and endearing.
Zoie's dreams of rapture at Alfred's home coming had not included such divided attention as he was now showing her and she was growing more and more desperate at the turn affairs had taken. She resolved to put a stop to his nonsense and to make him realise that she and no one else was the lode star of his existence. She beckoned to Aggie to get out of the room and to leave her a clear field and as soon as her friend had gone quietly into the next room, she called impatiently to Alfred who was still cooing rapturously over the young stranger. Finding Alfred deaf to her first entreaty, Zoie shut her lips hard, rearranged her pretty head-dress, drew one fascinating little curl down over her shoulder, reknotted the pink ribbon of her negligee, and then issued a final and imperious order for her husband to attend her.
“Yes, yes, dear,” answered Alfred, with a shade of impatience. “I'm coming, I'm coming.” And bidding a reluctant farewell to the small person in the crib, he crossed to her side.
Zoie caught Alfred's hand and drew him down to her; he smiled complacently.
“Well,” he said in the patronising tone that Zoie always resented. “How is hubby's little girl?”
“It's about time,” pouted Zoie, “that you made a little fuss over me for a change.”
“My own!” murmured Alfred. He stooped to kiss the eager lips, but just as his young wife prepared to lend herself to his long delayed embrace, his mind was distracted by an uneasy thought. “Do you think that Baby is——”
He was not permitted to finish the sentence.
Zoie drew him back to her with a sharp exclamation.
“Think of ME for a while,” she commanded.
“My darling,” expostulated Alfred with a shade of surprise at her vehemence. “How could I think of anyone else?” Again he stooped to embrace her and again his mind was directed otherwise. “I wonder if Baby is warm enough,” he said and attempted to rise.
“Wonder about ME for a while,” snapped Zoie, clinging to him determinedly.
Again Alfred looked at her in amazement. Was it possible there was anything besides Baby worth wondering about? Whether there was or not, Zoie was no longer to be resisted and with a last regretful look at the crib, he resigned himself to giving his entire attention to his spoiled young wife.
Gratified by her hard-won conquest, Zoie now settled herself in Alfred's arms.
“You haven't told me what you did all the time that you were away,” she reminded him.
“Oh, there was plenty to do,” answered Alfred.
“Did you think of me every minute?” she asked jealously.
“That would be telling,” laughed Alfred, as he pinched her small pink ear.
“I wish to be 'told,'” declared Zoie; “I don't suppose you realise it, but if I were to live a THOUSAND YEARS, I'd never be quite sure what you did during those FEW MONTHS.”
“It was nothing that you wouldn't have been proud of,” answered Alfred, with an unconscious expansion of his chest.
“Do you love me as much as ever?” asked Zoie.
“Behave yourself,” answered Alfred, trying not to appear flattered by the discovery that his absence had undoubtedly caused her great uneasiness.
“Well, SAY it!” demanded Zoie.
“You know I do,” answered Alfred, with the diffidence of a school boy.
“Then kiss me,” concluded Zoie, with an air of finality that left Alfred no alternative.
As a matter of fact, Alfred was no longer seeking an alternative. He was again under the spell of his wife's adorable charms and he kissed her not once, but many times.
“Foolish child,” he murmured, then he laid her tenderly against the large white pillows, remonstrating with her for being so spoiled, and cautioning her to be a good little girl while he went again to see about Baby.
Zoie clung to his hand and feigned approaching tears.
“You aren't thinking of me at all?” she pouted. “And kisses are no good unless you put your whole mind on them. Give me a real kiss!” she pleaded.
Again Alfred stooped to humour the small importunate person who was so jealous of his every thought, but just as his lips touched her forehead his ear was arrested by a sound as yet new both to him and to Zoie. He lifted his head and listened.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I don't know,” answered Zoie, wondering if the cat could have got into the room.
A redoubled effort on the part of the young stranger directed their attention in the right direction.
“My God!” exclaimed Alfred tragically, “it's Baby. He's crying.” And with that, he rushed to the crib and clasped the small mite close to his breast, leaving Zoie to pummel the pillows in an agony of vexation.
After vain cajoling of the angry youngster, Alfred bore him excitedly to Zoie's bedside.
“You'd better take him, dear,” he said.
To the young husband's astonishment, Zoie waved him from her in terror, and called loudly for Aggie. But no sooner had Aggie appeared on the scene, than a sharp whistle was heard from the pavement below.
“Pull down the shade!” cried Zoie frantically.
Aggie hastened toward the window.
Attributing Zoie's uneasiness to a caprice of modesty, Alfred turned from the cradle to reassure her.
“No one can see in way up here,” he said.
To Zoie's distress, the lowering of the shade was answered by a yet shriller whistle from the street below.
“Was it 'up' or 'down'?” cried Zoie to Aggie in an agony of doubt, as she tried to recall her instructions to Jimmy.
“I don't know,” answered Aggie. “I've forgotten.”
Another impatient whistle did not improve their memory. Alarmed by Zoie's increasing excitement, and thinking she was troubled merely by a sick woman's fancy that someone might see through the window, Alfred placed the babe quickly in its cradle and crossed to the young wife's bed.
“It was up, dear,” he said. “You had Aggie put it down.”
“Then I want it up,” declared the seemingly perverse Zoie.
“But it was up,” argued Alfred.
A succession of emotional whistles set Zoie to pounding the pillows.
“Put it down!” she commanded.
“But Zoie——” protested Alfred.
“Did I say 'up' or did I say 'down'?” moaned the half-demented Zoie, while long whistles and short whistles, appealing whistles and impatient whistles followed each other in quick succession.
“You said down, dear,” persisted Alfred, now almost as distracted as his wife.
Zoie waved him from the room. “I wish you'd get out of here,” she cried; “you make me so nervous that I can't think at all.”
“Of course, dear,” murmured Alfred, “if you wish it.” And with a hurt and perplexed expression on his face he backed quickly from the room.
When Zoie's letter asking for the O'Flarety twin had reached that young lady's astonished mother, Mrs. O'Flarety felt herself suddenly lifted to a position of importance.
“Think of the purty Mrs. Hardy a wantin' my little Bridget,” she exclaimed, and she began to dwell upon the romantic possibilities of her offspring's future under the care of such a “foine stylish lady and concluded by declaring it 'a lucky day entoirely.'”
Jimmy had his misgivings about it being Bridget's “LUCKY day,” but it was not for him to delay matters by dwelling upon the eccentricities of Zoie's character, and when Mrs. O'Flarety had deposited Bridget in Jimmy's short arms and slipped a well filled nursing bottle into his overcoat pocket, he took his leave hastily, lest the excited woman add Bridget's twin to her willing offering.
Once out of sight of the elated mother, Jimmy thrust the defenceless Bridget within the folds of his already snug ulster, buttoned the garment in such places as it would meet, and made for the taxi which, owing to the upset condition of the street, he had been obliged to abandon at the corner.
Whether the driver had obtained a more promising “fare” or been run in by the police, Jimmy never knew. At any rate it was in vain that he looked for his vehicle. So intense was the cold that it was impossible to wait for a chance taxi; furthermore, the meanness of the district made it extremely unlikely that one would appear, and glancing guiltily behind him to make sure that no one was taking cognisance of his strange exploit, Jimmy began picking his way along dark lanes and avoiding the lighted thoroughfare on which the “Sherwood” was situated, until he was within a block of his destination.
Panting with haste and excitement, he eventually gained courage to dash through a side street that brought him within a few doors of the “Sherwood.” Again glancing behind him, he turned the well lighted corner and arrived beneath Zoie's window to find one shade up and one down. In his perplexity he emitted a faint whistle. Immediately he saw the other shade lowered. Uncertain as to what arrangement he had actually made with Zoie, he ventured a second whistle. The result was a hysterical running up and down of the shade which left him utterly bewildered as to what disposition he was supposed to make of the wobbly bit of humanity pressed against his shirt front.
Reaching over his artificially curved figure to grasp a bit of white that trailed below his coat, he looked up to see a passing policeman eyeing him suspiciously.
“Taking the air?” asked the policeman.
“Ye-yes,” mumbled Jimmy with affected nonchalence and he knocked the heels of his boots together in order to keep his teeth from chattering. “It's a fi-fine ni-night for air,” he stuttered.
“Is it?” said the policeman, and to Jimmy's horror, he saw the fellow's eyes fix themselves on the bit of white.
“Go-good-night,” stammered Jimmy hurriedly, and trying to assume an easy stride in spite of the uncomfortable addition to his already rotund figure, he slipped into the hotel, where avoiding the lighted elevator, he laboured quickly, up the stairs.
At the very moment when Zoie was driving Alfred in consternation from the room, Jimmy entered it uninvited.
“Get out,” was the inhospitable greeting received simultaneously from Zoie and Aggie, and without waiting for further instructions he “got.”
Fortunately for all concerned, Alfred, who was at the same moment departing by way of the bedroom door, did not look behind him; but it was some minutes before Aggie who had followed Jimmy into the hall could persuade him to return.
After repeated and insistent signals both from Aggie and Zoie, Jimmy's round red face appeared cautiously around the frame of the door. It bore unmistakable indications of apoplexy. But the eyes of the women were not upon Jimmy's face, they too had caught sight of the bit of white that hung below his coat, and dragging him quickly into the room and closing the door, Aggie proceeded without inquiry or thanks to unbutton his coat and to take from beneath it the small object for which she and Zoie had been eagerly waiting.
“Thank Heaven!” sighed Zoie, as she saw Aggie bearing the latest acquisition to Alfred's rapidly increasing family safely toward the crib.
Suddenly remembering something in his right hand coat pocket, Jimmy called to Aggie, who turned to him and waited expectantly. After characteristic fumbling, he produced a well filled nursing bottle.
“What's that?” asked Zoie.
“For HER,” grunted Jimmy, and he nodded toward the bundle in Aggie's arms.
“HER!” cried Zoie and Aggie in chorus. Zoie shut her lips hard and gazed at him with contempt.
“I might have known you'd get the wrong kind,” she said.
What Jimmy thought about the ingratitude of woman was not to be expressed in language. He controlled himself as well as he could and merely LOOKED the things that he would like to have said.
“Well, it can't be helped now,” decided the philosophic Aggie; “here, Jimmy,” she said, “you hold 'HER' a minute and I'll get you the other one.”
Placing the small creature in Jimmy's protesting arms, Aggie turned toward the cradle to make the proposed exchange when she was startled by the unexpected return of Alfred.
Thanks to the ample folds of Jimmy's ulster, he was able to effectually conceal his charge and he started quickly toward the hall, but in making the necessary detour around the couch he failed to reach the door before Alfred, who had chosen a more direct way.
“Hold on, Jimmy,” exclaimed Alfred good-naturedly, and he laid a detaining hand on his friend's shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“I'll be back,” stammered Jimmy weakly, edging his way toward the door, and contriving to keep his back toward Alfred.
“Wait a minute,” said Alfred jovially, as he let his hand slip onto Jimmy's arm, “you haven't told me the news yet.”
“I'll tell you later,” mumbled Jimmy, still trying to escape. But Alfred's eye had fallen upon a bit of white flannel dangling below the bottom of Jimmy's ulster, it travelled upward to Jimmy's unusually rotund figure.
“What have you got there?” he demanded to know, as he pointed toward the centre button of Jimmy's overcoat.
“Here?” echoed Jimmy vapidly, glancing at the button in question, “why, that's just a little——” There was a faint wail from the depths of the ulster. Jimmy began to caper about with elephantine tread. “Oochie, coochie, oochie,” he called excitedly.
“What's the matter with you?” asked Alfred. The wail became a shriek. “Good Heavens!” cried the anxious father, “it's my boy.” And with that he pounced upon Jimmy, threw wide his ulster and snatched from his arms Jimmy's latest contribution to Zoie's scheme of things.
As Aggie had previously remarked, all young babies look very much alike, and to the inexperienced eye of this new and overwrought father, there was no difference between the infant that he now pressed to his breast, and the one that, unsuspected by him, lay peacefully dozing in the crib, not ten feet from him. He gazed at the face of the newcomer with the same ecstasy that he had felt in the possession of her predecessor. But Zoie and Aggie were looking at each other with something quite different from ecstasy.
“My boy,” exclaimed Alfred, with deep emotion, as he clasped the tiny creature to his breast. Then he turned to Jimmy. “What were you doing with my baby?” he demanded hotly.
“I—I was just taking him out for a little walk!” stammered Jimmy.
“You just try,” threatened Alfred, and he towered over the intimidated Jimmy. “Are you crazy?”
Jimmy was of the opinion that he must be crazy or he would never have found himself in such a predicament as this, but the anxious faces of Zoie and Aggie, denied him the luxury of declaring himself so. He sank mutely on the end of the couch and proceeded to sulk in silence.
As for Aggie and Zoie, they continued to gaze open-mouthed at Alfred, who was waltzing about the room transported into a new heaven of delight at having snatched his heir from the danger of another night ramble with Jimmy.
“Did a horrid old Jimmy spoil his 'itty nap'?” he gurgled to Baby. Then with a sudden exclamation of alarm, he turned toward the anxious women. “Aggie!” he cried, as he stared intently into Baby's face. “Look—his rash! It's turned IN!”
Aggie pretended to glance over Alfred's shoulder.
“Why so it has,” she agreed nervously.
“What shall we do?” cried the distraught Alfred.
“It's all right now,” counselled Aggie, “so long as it didn't turn in too suddenly.”
“We'd better keep him warm, hadn't we?” suggested Alfred, remembering Aggie's previous instructions on a similar occasion. “I'll put him in his crib,” he decided, and thereupon he made a quick move toward the bassinette.
Staggering back from the cradle with the unsteadiness of a drunken man Alfred called upon the Diety. “What is THAT?” he demanded as he pointed toward the unexpected object before him.
Neither Zoie, Aggie, nor Jimmy could command words to assist Alfred's rapidly waning powers of comprehension, and it was not until he had swept each face for the third time with a look of inquiry that Zoie found breath to stammer nervously, “Why—why—why, that's the OTHER one.”
“The other one?” echoed Alfred in a dazed manner; then he turned to Aggie for further explanation.
“Yes,” affirmed Aggie, with an emphatic nod, “the other one.”
An undescribable joy was dawning on Alfred's face.
“You don't mean——” He stared from the infant in his arms to the one in the cradle, then back again at Aggie and Zoie. The women solemnly nodded their heads. Even Jimmy unblushingly acquiesced. Alfred turned toward Zoie for the final confirmation of his hopes.
“Yes, dear,” assented Zoie sweetly, “that's Alfred.”
What Jimmy and the women saw next appeared to be the dance of a whirling dervish; as a matter of fact, it was merely a man, mad with delight, clasping two infants in long clothes and circling the room with them.
When Alfred could again enunciate distinctly, he rushed to Zoie's side with the babes in his arms.
“My darling,” he exclaimed, “why didn't you tell me?”
“I was ashamed,” whispered Zoie, hiding her head to shut out the sight of the red faces pressed close to hers.
“My angel!” cried Alfred, struggling to control his complicated emotions; then gazing at the precious pair in his arms, he cast his eyes devoutly toward heaven, “Was ever a man so blessed?”
Zoie peeped from the covers with affected shyness.
“You love me just as much?” she queried.
“I love you TWICE as much,” declared Alfred, and with that he sank exhausted on the foot of the bed, vainly trying to teeter one son on each knee.
When Jimmy gained courage to turn his eyes in the direction of the family group he had helped to assemble, he was not reassured by the reproachful glances that he met from Aggie and Zoie. It was apparent that in their minds, he was again to blame for something. Realising that they dared not openly reproach him before Alfred, he decided to make his escape while his friend was still in the room. He reached for his hat and tiptoed gingerly toward the door, but just as he was congratulating himself upon his decision, Alfred called to him with a mysterious air.
“Jimmy,” he said, “just a minute,” and he nodded for Jimmy to approach.
It must have been Jimmy's guilty conscience that made him powerless to disobey Alfred's every command. Anyway, he slunk back to the fond parent's side, where he ultimately allowed himself to be inveigled into swinging his new watch before the unattentive eyes of the red-faced babes on Alfred's knees.
“Lower, Jimmy, lower,” called Alfred as Jimmy absent-mindedly allowed the watch to swing out of the prescribed orbit. “Look at the darlings, Jimmy, look at them,” he exclaimed as he gazed at the small creatures admiringly.
“Yes, look at them, Jimmy,” repeated Zoie, and she glared at Jimmy behind Alfred's back.
“Don't you wish you had one of them, Jimmy?'” asked Alfred.
“Well,Iwish he had,” commented Zoie, and she wondered how she was ever again to detach either of them from Alfred's breast.
Before she could form any plan, the telephone rang loud and persistently. Jimmy glanced anxiously toward the women for instructions.
“I'll answer it,” said Aggie with suspicious alacrity, and she crossed quickly toward the 'phone. The scattered bits of conversation that Zoie was able to gather from Aggie's end of the wire did not tend to soothe her over-excited nerves. As for Alfred, he was fortunately so engrossed with the babies that he took little notice of what Aggie was saying.
“What woman?” asked Aggie into the 'phone. “Where's she from?” The answer was evidently not reassuring. “Certainly not,” exclaimed Aggie, “don't let her come up; send her away. Mrs. Hardy can't see anyone at all.” Then followed a bit of pantomime between Zoie and Aggie, from which it appeared that their troubles were multiplying, then Aggie again gave her attention to the 'phone. “I don't know anything about her,” she fibbed, “that woman must have the wrong address.” And with that she hung up the receiver and came towards Alfred, anxious to get possession of his two small charges and to get them from the room, lest the mother who was apparently downstairs should thrust herself into their midst.
“What's the trouble, Aggie?” asked Alfred, and he nodded toward the telephone.
“Oh, just some woman with the wrong address,” answered Aggie with affected carelessness. “You'd better let me take the babies now, Alfred.”
“Take them where?” asked Alfred with surprise.
“To bed,” answered Aggie sweetly, “they are going to sleep in the next room with Jimmy and me.” She laid a detaining hand on Jimmy's arm.
“What's the hurry?” asked Alfred a bit disgruntled.
“It's very late,” argued Aggie.
“Of course it is,” insisted Zoie. “Please, Alfred,” she pleaded, “do let Aggie take them.”
Alfred rose reluctantly. “Mother knows best,” he sighed, but ignoring Aggie's outstretched arms, he refused to relinquish the joy of himself carrying the small mites to their room, and he disappeared with the two of them, singing his now favourite lullaby.
When Alfred had left the room, Jimmy, who was now seated comfortably in the rocker, was rudely startled by a sharp voice at either side of him.
“Well!” shrieked Zoie, with all the disapproval that could be got into the one small word.
“You're very clever, aren't you?” sneered Aggie at Jimmy's other elbow.
Jimmy stared from one to the other.
“A nice fix you've got me into NOW,” reproved Zoie.
“Why didn't you get out when you had the chance?” demanded Aggie.
“You would take your own sweet time, wouldn't you,” said Zoie.
“What did I tell you?” asked Aggie.
“What does he care?” exclaimed Zoie, and she walked up and down the room excitedly, oblivious of the disarrangement of her flying negligee. “He's perfectly comfortable.”
“Oh yes,” assented Jimmy, as he sank back into the rocker and began propelling himself to and fro. “I never felt better,” but a disinterested observer would have seen in him the picture of discomfort.
“You're going to feel a great deal WORSE,” he was warned by Aggie. “Do you know who that was on the telephone?” she asked.
Jimmy looked at her mutely.
“The mother!” said Aggie emphatically
“What!” exclaimed Jimmy.
“She's down stairs,” explained Aggie.
Jimmy had stopped rocking—his face now wore an uneasy expression.
“It's time you showed a little human intelligence,” taunted Zoie, then she turned her back upon him and continued to Aggie, “what did she say?”
“She says,” answered Aggie, with a threatening glance toward Jimmy, “that she won't leave this place until Jimmy gives her baby back.”
“Let her have her old baby,” said Jimmy. “I don't want it.”
“You don't want it?” snapped Zoie indignantly, “what have YOU got to do with it?”
“Oh nothing, nothing,” acquiesced Jimmy meekly, “I'm a mere detail.”
“A lot you care what becomes of me,” exclaimed Zoie reproachfully; then she turned to Aggie with a decided nod. “Well, I want it,” she asserted.
“But Zoie,” protested Aggie in astonishment, “you can't mean to keep BOTH of them?”
“I certainly DO,” said Zoie.
“What?” cried Aggie and Jimmy in concert.
“Jimmy has presented Alfred with twins,” continued Zoie testily, “and now, he has to HAVE twins.”
Jimmy's eyes were growing rounder and rounder.
“Do you know,” continued Zoie, with a growing sense of indignation, “what would happen to me if I told Alfred NOW that he WASN'T the father of twins? He'd fly straight out of that door and I'd never see him again.”
Aggie admitted that Zoie was no doubt speaking the truth.
“Jimmy has awakened Alfred's paternal instinct for twins,” declared Zoie, with another emphatic nod of her head, “and now Jimmy must take the consequences.”
Jimmy tried to frame a few faint objections, but Zoie waved him aside, with a positive air. “It's no use arguing. If it were only ONE, it wouldn't be so bad, but to tell Alfred that he's lost twins, he couldn't live through it.”
“But Zoie,” argued Aggie, “we can't have that mother hanging around down stairs until that baby is an old man. She'll have us arrested, the next thing.”
“Why arrest US?” asked Zoie, with wide baby eyes. “WE didn't take it. Old slow-poke took it.” And she nodded toward the now utterly vanquished Jimmy.
“That's right,” murmured Jimmy, with a weak attempt at sarcasm, “don't leave me out of anything good.”
“It doesn't matter WHICH one she arrests,” decided the practical Aggie.
“Well, it matters to me,” objected Zoie.
“And to me too, if it's all the same to you,” protested Jimmy.
“Whoever it is,” continued Aggie, “the truth is bound to come out. Alfred will have to know sooner or later, so we might as well make a clean breast of it, first as last.”
“That's the first sensible thing you've said in three months,” declared Jimmy with reviving hope.
“Oh, is that so?” sneered Zoie, and she levelled her most malicious look at Jimmy. “What do you think Alfred would do to YOU, Mr. Jimmy, if he knew the truth? YOU'RE the one who sent him the telegram; you are the one who told him that he was a FATHER.”
“That's true,” admitted Aggie, with a wrinkled forehead.
Zoie was quick to see her advantage. She followed it up. “And Alfred hasn't any sense of humour, you know.”
“How could he have?” groaned Jimmy; “he's married.” And with that he sank into his habitual state of dumps.
“Your sarcasm will do a great deal of good,” flashed Zoie. Then she dismissed him with a nod, and crossed to her dressing table.
“But Zoie,” persisted Aggie, as she followed her young friend in trepidation, “don't you realise that if you persist in keeping this baby, that mother will dog Jimmy's footsteps for the rest of his life?”
“That will be nice,” murmured Jimmy.
Zoie busied herself with her toilet, and turned a deaf ear to Aggie. There was a touch of genuine emotion in Aggie's voice when she continued.
“Just think of it, Zoie, Jimmy will never be able to come and go like a free man again.”
“What do I care how he comes and goes?” exclaimed Zoie impatiently. “If Jimmy had gone when we told him to go, that woman would have had her old baby by now; but he didn't, oh no! All he ever does is to sit around and talk about his dinner.”
“Yes,” cried Jimmy hotly, “and that's about as far as I ever GET with it.”
“You'll never get anywhere with anything,” was Zoie's exasperating answer. “You're too slow.”
“Well, there's nothing slow about you,” retorted Jimmy, stung to a frenzy by her insolence.
“Oh please, please,” interposed Aggie, desperately determined to keep these two irascible persons to the main issue. “What are we going to tell that mother?”
“You can tell her whatever you like,” answered Zoie, with an impudent toss of her head, “but I'll NOT give up that baby until I get ANOTHER one.'
“Another?” almost shrieked Jimmy. It was apparent that he must needs increase the number of his brain cells if he were to follow this extraordinary young woman's line of thought much further. “You don't expect to go on multiplying them forever, do you?” he asked.
“YOU are the one who has been multiplying them,” was Zoie's disconcerting reply.
It was evident to Jimmy that he could not think fast enough nor clearly enough to save himself from a mental disaster if he continued to argue with the shameless young woman, so he contented himself by rocking to and fro and murmuring dismally that he had “known from the first that it was to be an endless chain.”
While Zoie and Jimmy had been wrangling, Aggie had been weighing the pros and cons of the case. She now turned to Jimmy with a tone of firm but motherly decision. “Zoie is quite right,” she said.
Jimmy rolled his large eyes up at his spouse with a “you too, Brutus,” expression.
Aggie continued mercilessly, “It's the only way, Jimmy.”
No sooner had Aggie arrived at her decision than Zoie upset her tranquillity by a triumphant expression of “I have it.”
Jimmy and Aggie gazed at Zoie's radiant face in consternation. They were accustomed to see only reproach there. Her sudden enthusiasm increased Jimmy's uneasiness.
“YOU have it,” he grunted without attempting to conceal his disgust. “SHE'S the one who generally has it.” And he nodded toward Aggie.
Inflamed by her young friend's enthusiasm, Aggie rushed to her eagerly.
“What is it, Zoie?” she asked.
“The washerwoman!” exclaimed Zoie, as though the revelation had come straight from heaven. “SHE HAD TWINS,” and with that, two pairs of eyes turned expectantly toward the only man in the room.
Tracing the pattern of the rug with his toe, Jimmy remained stubbornly oblivious of their attentions. He rearranged the pillows on the couch, and finally, for want of a better occupation, he wound his watch. All to no avail. He could feel Zoie's cat-like gaze upon him.
“Jimmy can get the other one,” she said.
“The hell I can,” exclaimed Jimmy, starting to his feet and no longer considering time or place.
The two women gazed at him reproachfully.
“Jimmy!” cried Aggie, in a shocked, hurt voice. “That's the first time I've ever heard you swear.”
“Well, it won't be the LAST time,” declared Jimmy hotly, “if THIS keeps up.” His eyes were blazing. He paced to and fro like an infuriated lion.
“Dearest,” said Aggie, “you look almost imposing.”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Zoie, who found Jimmy unusually ridiculous. “If I'd known that Jimmy was going to put such an idea into Alfred's head, I'd have got the two in the first place.”
“Will she let us HAVE the other?” asked Aggie with some misgiving.
“Of course she will,” answered Zoie, leaving Jimmy entirely out of the conversation. “She's as poor as a church mouse. I'll pay her well. She'll never miss it. What could she do with one twin, anyway?”
A snort of rage from Jimmy did not disturb Zoie's enthusiasm. She proceeded to elaborate her plan.
“I'll adopt them,” she declared, “I'll leave them all Alfred's money. Think of Alfred having real live twins for keeps.”
“It would be nice, wouldn't it?” commented Jimmy sarcastically.
Zoie turned to Jimmy, as though they were on the best of terms.
“How much money have you?” she asked.
Before Jimmy could declare himself penniless, Aggie answered for him with the greatest enthusiasm, “He has a whole lot; he drew some today.”
“Good!” exclaimed Zoie to the abashed Jimmy, and then she continued in a matter-of-fact tone, “Now, Jimmy,” she said, “you go give the washwoman what money you have on account, then tell her to come around here in the morning when Alfred has gone out and I'll settle all the details with her. Go on now, Jimmy,” she continued, “you don't need another letter.”
“No,” chimed in Aggie sweetly; “you know her now, dear.”
“Oh, yes,” corroborated Jimmy, with a sarcastic smile and without budging from the spot on which he stood, “we are great pals now.”
“What's the matter?” asked Zoie, astonished that Jimmy was not starting on his mission with alacrity. “What are you waiting for?”
Jimmy merely continued to smile enigmatically.
“You know what happened the last time you hesitated,” warned Aggie.
“I know what happened when I DIDN'T hesitate,” ruminated Jimmy, still holding his ground.
Zoie's eyes were wide with surprise. “You don't mean to say,” she exclaimed incredulously, “that you aren't GOING—after we have thought all this out just to SAVE you?”
“Say,” answered Jimmy, with a confidential air, “do me a favour, will you? Stop thinking out things to 'save me.'”
“But, Jimmy——” protested both women simultaneously; but before they could get further Alfred's distressed voice reached them from the next room.
“Aggie!” he called frantically.