" And he rose and started
hurriedly toward the telephone, baby in arms.
"Don't be silly," called Zoie, filled with vague alarm at the
thought of the family physician's appearance and the explanations
that this might entail.
Stepping between Alfred and the 'phone, Aggie protested
frantically. "You see, Alfred," she said, "it is better to have
the rash OUT, it won't do any harm unless it turns IN."
"He's perfectly well," declared Zoie, "if you'll only put him in
his crib and leave him alone."
Alfred looked down at his charge. "Is that right, son?" he
asked, and he tickled the little fellow playfully in the ribs.
"I'll tell you what," he called over his shoulder to Zoie, "he's
a fine looking boy." And then with a mysterious air, he nodded
to Aggie to approach. "Whom does he look like?" he asked.
Again Zoie sat up in anxiety. Aggie glanced at her, uncertain
what answer to make.
"I--I hadn't thought," she stammered weakly.
"Go on, go on," exclaimed the proud young father, "you can't tell
me that you can look at that boy and not see the resemblance."
"To whom?" asked Aggie, half fearfully.
"Why," said Alfred, "he's the image of Zoie."
Zoie gazed at the puckered red face in Alfred's arms. "What!"
she shrieked in disgust, then fall back on her pillows and drew
the lace coverlet over her face.
Mistaking Zoie's feeling for one of embarrassment at being
over-praised, Alfred bore the infant to her bedside.
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