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. 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 ou