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.