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 do I know 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.