He had not been treated to much affection of
late. His head drooped lower--he began to twiddle the fob on his
watch chain. "Won't you?" persisted Aggie.
Jimmy studied the toes of his boots.
"Won't you?" she repeated, and her soft eyelashes just brushed
the tip of his retrousee nose.
Jimmy's head was now wagging from side to side.
"Won't you?" she entreated a fourth time, and she kissed him full
on the lips.
With a resigned sigh, Jimmy rose mechanically from the heap of
crushed laundry and held out his fat chubby hand.
"Give me the letter," he groaned.
"Here you are," said Zoie, taking Jimmy's acquiescence as a
matter of course; and she thrust the letter into the pocket of
Jimmy's ulster. "Now, when you get back with the baby," she
continued, "don't come in all of a sudden; just wait outside and
whistle. You CAN WHISTLE, can't you?" she asked with a doubtful
air.
For answer, Jimmy placed two fingers between his lips and
produced a shrill whistle that made both Zoie and Aggie glance
nervously toward Alfred's bedroom door.
"Yes, you can WHISTLE," admitted Zoie, then she continued her
directions. "If Alfred is not in the room, I'll raise the shade
and you can come right up."
"And if he is in the room?" asked Jimmy with a fine shade of
sarcasm.
"If he IS in the room," explained Zoie, "you must wait outside
until I can get rid of him.
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