Having crossed the room and stealthily closed the door, Aggie
returned to Jimmy, who was watching her with the furtive
expression of a trapped animal.
"It's Providence," she declared, with a grave countenance.
Jimmy looked up at Aggie with affected innocence, then rolled his
round eyes away from her. He was confronted by Zoie, who had
approached from the opposite side of the room.
"It's Fate," declared Zoie, in awe-struck tones.
Jimmy was beginning to wriggle, but he kept up a last desperate
presence of not understanding them.
"You needn't tell me I'm going to take the wash to the old lady,"
he said, "for I'm not going to do it."
"It isn't the WASH," said Aggie, and her tone warned him that she
expected no nonsense from him.
"You know what we are thinking about just as well as we do," said
Zoie. "I'll write that washerwoman a note and tell her we must
have one of those babies right now." And with that she turned
toward her desk and began rummaging amongst her papers for a
pencil and pad. "The luck of these poor," she murmured.
"The luck of US," corrected Aggie, whose spirits were now
soaring. Then she turned to Jimmy with growing enthusiasm.
"Just think of it, dear," she said, "Fate has sent us a baby to
our very door."
"Well," declared Jimmy, again beginning to show signs of fight,
"if Fate has sent a baby to the door, you don't need me," and
with that he snatched his coat from the crib.
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