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Throwing himself into the opposite chair, Alfred selected various exhibits from his collection of messages. "I just brought these up from the office," he said. "These are some of the telegrams that she sent me each day last week while I was away. This is Monday's." And he proceeded to read with a sneering imitation of Zoie's cloy sweetness. "'Darling, so lonesome without you. Cried all day.
"What will he do AFTER he gets it?" questioned Aggie. Looking up at her friend in alarm, Zoie suddenly ceased sewing. "You don't mean he won't come?" she gasped. "Of course I don't," answered Aggie. "He's only HUMAN if he is a husband." There was a sceptical expression around Zoie's mouth, but she did not pursue the subject.
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.
"Why pink?" asked Jimmy, objecting to any scheme of Zoie's on general principles. "It's Alfred's favourite colour," explained Aggie. "Besides, it's so becoming," she added. Jimmy could not help feeling that this lure to Alfred's senses was absolutely indecent, and he said so. "Upon my word," answered Aggie, quite affronted, "you are getting as unreasonable as Alfred himself."
This was too much, and just as he had seemed to be well out of complications for the remainder of his no doubt short life. He turned to bolt for the door but Aggie's eyes were upon him. "Luncheon?" exclaimed Aggie and she regarded him with a puzzled frown. Zoie's hand was already over her lips, but too late.
To save his immortal soul, Jimmy could never help being hypnotised by Zoie's small feet. He wondered now if they had been the reason of Alfred's first downfall. He recalled with a sigh of relief that Aggie's feet were large and reassuring. He also recalled an appropriate quotation: "The path of virtue is not for women with small feet," it ran.
"Is this the Fullerton Street Police Station?" asked Alfred. "The Police!" echoed Aggie, and her eyes sought Zoie's inquiringly. "Sh! Sh!" called Alfred over his shoulder to the excited Aggie, then he continued into the 'phone. "Is Donneghey there?" There was a pause. Alfred laughed jovially. "It is? Well, hello, Donneghey, this is your old friend Hardy, Alfred Hardy at the Sherwood.
She turned her face toward the door, and called lustily, "Aggie! Aggie!" "What is it, dear?" questioned Alfred, thinking Zoie suddenly ill, "can I get you something?" Before Zoie was obliged to reply, Aggie answered her summons. "Did you call?" she asked, glancing inquiringly into Zoie's distressed face.
"Aggie!" shrieked the over-wrought young wife. Alfred attempted to reassure her. "Now, now, dear, don't get nervous," he said, "I am only taking the necessary precautions." And again he turned to the 'phone. Alarmed by Zoie's summons, Aggie entered the room hastily. She was not reassured upon hearing Alfred's further conversation at the 'phone.
When Alfred could again enunciate distinctly, he rushed to Zoie's side with the babes in his arms. "My darling," he exclaimed, "why didn't you tell me?" "I was ashamed," whispered Zoie, hiding her head to shut out the sight of the red faces pressed close to hers.
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