What seemed to be a streak of pink through the room was in reality Zoie bolting for the bed.

While Zoie hastened to snuggle comfortably under the covers, Aggie tried without avail to get Jimmy started on his errand.

Getting no response from Aggie, Alfred, bearing one infant in his arms, came in search of her. Apparently he was having difficulty with the unfastening of baby's collar.

“Aggie,” he called sharply, “how on earth do you get this fool pin out?”

“Take him back, Alfred,” answered Aggie impatiently; “I'll be there in a minute.”

But Alfred had apparently made up his mind that he was not a success as a nurse.

“You'd better take him now, Aggie,” he decided, as he offered the small person to the reluctant Aggie. “I'll stay here and talk to Jimmy.”

“Oh, but Jimmy was just going out,” answered Aggie; then she turned to her obdurate spouse with mock sweetness, “Weren't you, dear?” she asked.

“Yes,” affirmed Zoie, with a threatening glance toward Jimmy. “He was going, just now.”

Still Jimmy remained rooted to the spot.

“Out?” questioned Alfred. “What for?”

“Just for a little air,” explained Aggie blandly.

“Yes,” growled Jimmy, “another little heir.”

“Air?” repeated Alfred in surprise. “He had air a while ago with my son. He is going to stay here and tell me the news. Sit down, Jimmy,” he commanded, and to the intense annoyance of Aggie and Zoie, Jimmy sank resignedly on the couch.

Alfred was about to seat himself beside his friend, when the 'phone rang violently. Being nearest to the instrument, Alfred reached it first and Zoie and Aggie awaited the consequences in dread. What they heard did not reassure them nor Jimmy.

“Still down there?” exclaimed Alfred into the 'phone.

Jimmy began to wriggle with a vague uneasiness.

“Well,” continued Alfred at the 'phone, “that woman has the wrong number.” Then with a peremptory “Wait a minute,” he turned to Zoie, “The hall boy says that woman who called a while ago is still down stairs and she won't go away until she has seen you, Zoie. She has some kind of an idiotic idea that you know where her baby is.”

“How absurd,” sneered Zoie.

“How silly,” added Aggie.

“How foolish,” grunted Jimmy.

“Well,” decided Alfred, “I'd better go down stairs and see what's the matter with her,” and he turned toward the door to carry out his intention.

“Alfred!” called Zoie sharply. She was half out of bed in her anxiety. “You'll do no such thing. 'Phone down to the boy to send her away. She's crazy.”

“Oh,” said Alfred, “then she's been here before? Who is she?”

“Who is she?” answered Zoie, trying to gain time for a new inspiration. “Why, she's—she's——” her face lit up with satisfaction—the idea had arrived. “She's the nurse,” she concluded emphatically.

“The nurse?” repeated Alfred, a bit confused.

“Yes,” answered Zoie, pretending to be annoyed with his dull memory. “She's the one I told you about, the one I had to discharge.”

“Oh,” said Alfred, with the relief of sudden comprehension; “the crazy one?”

Aggie and Zoie nodded their heads and smiled at him tolerantly, then Zoie continued to elaborate. “You see,” she said, “the poor creature was so insane about little Jimmy that I couldn't go near the child.”

“What!” exclaimed Alfred in a mighty rage. “I'll soon tell the boy what to do with her,” he declared, and he rushed to the 'phone. Barely had Alfred taken the receiver from the hook when the outer door was heard to bang. Before he could speak a distracted young woman, whose excitable manner bespoke her foreign origin, swept through the door without seeing him and hurled herself at the unsuspecting Zoie. The woman's black hair was dishevelled, and her large shawl had fallen from her shoulders. To Jimmy, who was crouching behind an armchair, she seemed a giantess.

“My baby!” cried the frenzied mother, with what was unmistakably an Italian accent. “Where is he?” There was no answer; her eyes sought the cradle. “Ah!” she shrieked, then upon finding the cradle empty, she redoubled her lamentations and again she bore down upon the terrified Zoie.

“You,” she cried, “you know where my baby is!”

For answer, Zoie sank back amongst her pillows and drew the bed covers completely over her head. Alfred approached the bed to protect his young wife; the Italian woman wheeled about and perceived a small child in his arms. She threw herself upon him.

“I knew it,” she cried; “I knew it!”

Managing to disengage himself from what he considered a mad woman, and elevating one elbow between her and the child, Alfred prevented the mother from snatching the small creature from his arms.

“Calm yourself, madam,” he commanded with a superior air. “We are very sorry for you, of course, but we can't have you coming here and going on like this. He's OUR baby and——”

“He's NOT your baby!” cried the infuriated mother; “he's MY baby. Give him to me. Give him to me,” and with that she sprang upon the uncomfortable Alfred like a tigress. Throwing her whole weight on his uplifted elbow, she managed to pull down his arm until she could look into the face of the washerwoman's promising young offspring. The air was rent by a scream that made each individual hair of Jimmy's head stand up in its own defence. He could feel a sickly sensation at the top of his short thick neck.

“He's NOT my baby,” wailed the now demented mother, little dreaming that the infant for which she was searching was now reposing comfortably on a soft pillow in the adjoining room.

As for Alfred, all of this was merely confirmation of Zoie's statement that this poor soul was crazy, and he was tempted to dismiss her with worthy forbearance.

“I am glad, madam,” he said, “that you are coming to your senses.”

Now, all would have gone well and the bewildered mother would no doubt have left the room convinced of her mistake, had not Jimmy's nerves got the better of his judgment. Having slipped cautiously from his position behind the armchair he was tiptoeing toward the door, and was flattering himself on his escape, when suddenly, as his forward foot cautiously touched the threshold, he heard the cry of the captor in his wake, and before he could possibly command the action of his other foot, he felt himself being forcibly drawn backward by what appeared to be his too tenacious coat-tails.

“If only they would tear,” thought Jimmy, but thanks to the excellence of the tailor that Aggie had selected for him, they did NOT “tear.”

Not until she had anchored Jimmy safely to the centre of the rug did the irate mother pour out the full venom of her resentment toward him. From the mixture of English and Italian that followed, it was apparent that she was accusing Jimmy of having stolen her baby.

“Take me to him,” she demanded tragically; “my baby—take me to him!”

Jimmy appealed to Aggie and Zoie. Their faces were as blank as his own. He glanced at Alfred.

“Humour her,” whispered Alfred, much elated by the evidence of his own self-control as compared to Jimmy's utter demoralisation under the apparently same circumstances.

Still Jimmy did not budge.

Alfred was becoming vexed; he pointed first to his own forehead, then to that of Jimmy's hysterical captor. He even illustrated his meaning by making a rotary motion with his forefinger, intended to remind Jimmy that the woman was a lunatic.

Still Jimmy only stared at him and all the while the woman was becoming more and more emphatic in her declaration that Jimmy knew where her baby was.

“Sure, Jimmy,” said Alfred, out of all patience with Jimmy's stupidity and tiring of the strain of the woman's presence. “You know where her baby is.”

“Ah!” cried the mother, and she towered over Jimmy with a wild light in her eyes. “Take me to him,” she demanded; “take me to him.”

Jimmy rolled his large eyes first toward Aggie, then toward Zoie and at last toward Alfred. There was no mercy to be found anywhere.

“Take her to him, Jimmy,” commanded a concert of voices; and pursued by a bundle of waving colours and a medley of discordant sounds, Jimmy shot from the room.