Part 25 (1/2)

A redoubled effort on the part of the young stranger directed their attention in the right direction.

”My G.o.d!” exclaimed Alfred tragically, ”it's Baby. He's crying.” And with that, he rushed to the crib and clasped the small mite close to his breast, leaving Zoie to pummel the pillows in an agony of vexation.

After vain cajoling of the angry youngster, Alfred bore him excitedly to Zoie's bedside.

”You'd better take him, dear,” he said.

To the young husband's astonishment, Zoie waved him from her in terror, and called loudly for Aggie. But no sooner had Aggie appeared on the scene, than a sharp whistle was heard from the pavement below.

”Pull down the shade!” cried Zoie frantically.

Aggie hastened toward the window.

Attributing Zoie's uneasiness to a caprice of modesty, Alfred turned from the cradle to rea.s.sure her.

”No one can see in way up here,” he said.

To Zoie's distress, the lowering of the shade was answered by a yet shriller whistle from the street below.

”Was it 'up' or 'down'?” cried Zoie to Aggie in an agony of doubt, as she tried to recall her instructions to Jimmy.

”I don't know,” answered Aggie. ”I've forgotten.”

Another impatient whistle did not improve their memory. Alarmed by Zoie's increasing excitement, and thinking she was troubled merely by a sick woman's fancy that someone might see through the window, Alfred placed the babe quickly in its cradle and crossed to the young wife's bed.

”It was up, dear,” he said. ”You had Aggie put it down.”

”Then I want it up,” declared the seemingly perverse Zoie.

”But it was up,” argued Alfred.

A succession of emotional whistles set Zoie to pounding the pillows.

”Put it down!” she commanded.

”But Zoie----” protested Alfred.

”Did I say 'up' or did I say 'down'?” moaned the half-demented Zoie, while long whistles and short whistles, appealing whistles and impatient whistles followed each other in quick succession.

”You said down, dear,” persisted Alfred, now almost as distracted as his wife.

Zoie waved him from the room. ”I wish you'd get out of here,” she cried; ”you make me so nervous that I can't think at all.”

”Of course, dear,” murmured Alfred, ”if you wish it.” And with a hurt and perplexed expression on his face he backed quickly from the room.

CHAPTER XXI

When Zoie's letter asking for the O'Flarety twin had reached that young lady's astonished mother, Mrs. O'Flarety felt herself suddenly lifted to a position of importance.

”Think of the purty Mrs. Hardy a wantin' my little Bridget,” she exclaimed, and she began to dwell upon the romantic possibilities of her offspring's future under the care of such a ”foine stylish lady and concluded by declaring it 'a lucky day entoirely.'”