"Can't
you ever think of anybody but yourself?" she asked, with a
martyred air.
Had Jimmy been half his age, Aggie would have felt sure that she
saw him make a face at her friend for answer. As it was, she
resolved to make one last effort to awaken her unobliging spouse
to a belated sense of duty.
"You see, dear," she said, "you might better get the
washerwoman's baby than to go from house to house for one," and
she glanced again toward the paper.
"Yes," urged Zoie, "and that's just what you'll HAVE to do, if
you don't get this one."
Jimmy's head hung dejectedly. It was apparent that his courage
was slipping from him. Aggie was quick to realise her
opportunity, and before Jimmy could protect himself from her
treacherous wiles, she had slipped one arm coyly about his neck.
"Now, Jimmy," she pleaded as she pressed her soft cheek to his
throbbing temple, and toyed with the bay curl on his perspiring
forehead, "wont you do this little teeny-weepy thing just for
me?"
Jimmy's lips puckered in a pout; he began to blink nervously.
Aggie slipped her other arm about his neck.
"You know," she continued with a baby whine, "I got Zoie into
this, and I've just got to get her out of it. You're not going
to desert me, are you, Jimmy? You WILL help me, won't you, dear?"
Her breath was on Jimmy's cheek; he could feel her lips stealing
closer to his.
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