"Please, Alfred," she pleaded,
"do let Aggie take them."
Alfred rose reluctantly. "Mother knows best," he sighed, but
ignoring Aggie's outstretched arms, he refused to relinquish the
joy of himself carrying the small mites to their room, and he
disappeared with the two of them, singing his now favourite
lullaby.
When Alfred had left the room, Jimmy, who was now seated
comfortably in the rocker, was rudely startled by a sharp voice
at either side of him.
"Well!" shrieked Zoie, with all the disapproval that could be got
into the one small word.
"You're very clever, aren't you?" sneered Aggie at Jimmy's other
elbow.
Jimmy stared from one to the other.
"A nice fix you've got me into NOW," reproved Zoie.
"Why didn't you get out when you had the chance?" demanded Aggie.
"You would take your own sweet time, wouldn't you," said Zoie.
"What did I tell you?" asked Aggie.
"What does he care?" exclaimed Zoie, and she walked up and down
the room excitedly, oblivious of the disarrangement of her flying
negligee. "He's perfectly comfortable."
"Oh yes," assented Jimmy, as he sank back into the rocker and
began propelling himself to and fro. "I never felt better," but
a disinterested observer would have seen in him the picture of
discomfort.
"You're going to feel a great deal WORSE," he was warned by
Aggie. "Do you know who that was on the telephone?" she asked.
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