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.”