impatiently, "Go on, Jimmy, do! You can EAT any time." And with
that she hung up the receiver.

"Its clothes," called Zoie frantically. "Tell him about the clothes. I
sent them this evening."

"Never mind about the clothes," answered Aggie. "We're lucky if we get
the baby."

"But I have to mind," persisted Zoie. "I gave all its other things to
the laundress. I wanted them to be nice and fresh. And now the horrid
old creature hasn't brought them back yet."

"You get into your OWN things," commanded Aggie.

"Where's my dressing gown?" asked Zoie, her elation revived by the
thought of her fine raiment, and with that she flew to the foot of the
bed and snatched up two of the prettiest negligees ever imported from
Paris. "Which do you like better?" she asked, as she held them both
aloft, "the pink or the blue?"

"It doesn't matter," answered Aggie wearily. "Get into SOMETHING, that's
all."

"Then unhook me," commanded Zoie gaily, as she turned her back to Aggie,
and continued to admire the two "creations" on her arm. So pleased was
she with the picture of herself in either of the garments that she began
humming a gay waltz and swaying to the rhythm.

"Stand still," commanded Aggie, but her warning was unnecessary, for at
that moment Zoie was transfixed by a horrible fear.

"Suppose," she said in alarm, "that Jimmy can't GET the baby?"

"He's GOT to get it," answered Aggie emphatically, and she undid the
last stubborn hook of Zoie's gown and put the girl from her. "There,
now, you're all unfastened," she said, "hurry and get dressed."

"You mean undressed," laughed Zoie, as she let her pretty evening gown
fall lightly from her shoulders and drew on her pink negligee. "Oh,
Aggie!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of her reflection in the
mirror, "isn't it a love? And you know," she added. "Alfred just adores
pink."

"Silly!" answered Aggie, but in spite of herself, she was quite thrilled
by the picture of the exquisite young creature before her. Zoie had
certainly never looked more irresistible. "Can't you get some of that
colour out of your cheeks," asked Aggie in despair. "You look like a
washerwoman."

"I'll put on some cold cream and powder," answered Zoie. She flew to her
dressing table; and in a moment there was a white cloud in her immediate
vicinity. She turned to Aggie to inquire the result. Again the 'phone
rang. "Who's that?" she exclaimed in alarm.

"I'll see," answered Aggie.

"It couldn't be