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.

“But I care,” 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.