When Zoie's letter asking for the O'Flarety twin had reached that young
lady's astonished mother, Mrs. O'Flarety felt herself suddenly lifted to
a position of importance.
“Think of the purty Mrs. Hardy a wantin' my little Bridget,” she
exclaimed, and she began to dwell upon the romantic possibilities of
her offspring's future under the care of such a “foine stylish lady and
concluded by declaring it 'a lucky day entoirely.'”
Jimmy had his misgivings about it being Bridget's “LUCKY day,” but it
was not for him to delay matters by dwelling upon the eccentricities
of Zoie's character, and when Mrs. O'Flarety had deposited Bridget in
Jimmy's short arms and slipped a well filled nursing bottle into his
overcoat pocket, he took his leave hastily, lest the excited woman add
Bridget's twin to her willing offering.
Once out of sight of the elated mother, Jimmy thrust the defenceless
Bridget within the folds of his already snug ulster, buttoned the
garment in such places as it would meet, and made for the taxi which,
owing to the upset condition of the street, he had been obliged to
abandon at the corner.
Whether the driver had obtained a more promising “fare” or been run
in by the police, Jimmy never knew. At any rate it was in vain that he
looked for his vehicle. So intense was the cold that it was impossible
to wait for a chance taxi; furthermore, the meanness of the district
made it extremely unlikely that one would appear, and glancing guiltily
behind him to make sure that no one was taking cognisance of his strange
exploit, Jimmy began picking his way along dark lanes and avoiding the
lighted thoroughfare on which the “Sherwood” was situated, until he was
within a block of his destination.
Panting with haste and excitement, he eventually gained courage to
dash through a side street that brought him within a few doors of the
“Sherwood.” Again glancing behind him, he turned the well lighted corner
and arrived beneath Zoie's window to find one shade up and one down. In
his perplexity he emitted a faint whistle. Immediately he saw the other
shade lowered. Uncertain as to what arrangement he had actually made
with Zoie, he ventured a second whistle. The result was a hysterical
running up and down of the shade which left him utterly bewildered as to
what disposition he was supposed to make of the wobbly bit of humanity
pressed against his shirt front.
Reaching over his artificially curved figure to grasp a bit of white
that trailed below his coat, he looked up to see a passing policeman
eyeing him suspiciously.
“Taking the air?” asked the policeman.
“Ye-yes,” mumbled Jimmy with affected nonchalence and he knocked the
heels of his boots together in order to keep his teeth from chattering.
“It's a fi-fine ni-night for air,” he stuttered.
“Is it?” said the policeman, and to Jimmy's horror, he saw the fellow's
eyes fix themselves on the bit of white.
“Go-good-night,” stammered Jimmy hurriedly, and trying to assume an
easy stride in spite of the uncomfortable addition to his already rotund
figure, he slipped into the hotel, where avoiding the lighted elevator,
he laboured quickly, up the stairs.
At the very moment when Zoie was driving Alfred in consternation from
the room, Jimmy entered it uninvited.
“Get out,” was the inhospitable greeting received simultaneously from
Zoie and Aggie, and without waiting for further instructions he “got.”
Fortunately for all concerned, Alfred, who was at the same moment
departing by way of the bedroom door, did not look behind him; but it
was some minutes before Aggie who had followed Jimmy into the hall could
persuade him to return.
After repeated and insistent signals both from Aggie and Zoie, Jimmy's
round red face appeared cautiously around the frame of the door. It bore
unmistakable indications of apoplexy. But the eyes of the women were not
upon Jimmy's face, they too had caught sight of the bit of white that
hung below his coat, and dragging him quickly into the room and closing
the door, Aggie proceeded without inquiry or thanks to unbutton his coat
and to take from beneath it the small object for which she and Zoie had
been eagerly waiting.
“Thank Heaven!” sighed Zoie, as she saw Aggie bearing the latest
acquisition to Alfred's rapidly increasing family safely toward the
crib.
Suddenly remembering something in his right hand coat pocket, Jimmy
called to Aggie, who turned to him and waited expectantly. After
characteristic fumbling, he produced a well filled nursing bottle.
“What's that?” asked Zoie.
“For HER,” grunted Jimmy, and he nodded toward the bundle in Aggie's
arms.
“HER!” cried Zoie and Aggie in chorus. Zoie shut her lips hard and gazed
at him with contempt.
“I might have known you'd get the wrong kind,” she said.
What Jimmy thought about the ingratitude of woman was not to be
expressed in language. He controlled himself as well as he could and
merely LOOKED the things that he would like to have said.
“Well, it can't be helped now,” decided the philosophic Aggie; “here,
Jimmy,” she said, “you hold 'HER' a minute and I'll get you the other
one.”
Placing the small creature in Jimmy's protesting arms, Aggie turned
toward the cradle to make the proposed exchange when she was startled by
the unexpected return of Alfred.
Thanks to the ample folds of Jimmy's ulster, he was able to effectually
conceal his charge and he started quickly toward the hall, but in making
the necessary detour around the couch he failed to reach the door before
Alfred, who had chosen a more direct way.
“Hold on, Jimmy,” exclaimed Alfred good-naturedly, and he laid a
detaining hand on his friend's shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“I'll be back,” stammered Jimmy weakly, edging his way toward the door,
and contriving to keep his back toward Alfred.
“Wait a minute,” said Alfred jovially, as he let his hand slip onto
Jimmy's arm, “you haven't told me the news yet.”
“I'll tell you later,” mumbled Jimmy, still trying to escape. But
Alfred's eye had fallen upon a bit of white flannel dangling below
the bottom of Jimmy's ulster, it travelled upward to Jimmy's unusually
rotund figure.
“What have you got there?” he demanded to know, as he pointed toward the
centre button of Jimmy's overcoat.
“Here?” echoed Jimmy vapidly, glancing at the button in question, “why,
that's just a little----” There was a faint wail from the depths of
the ulster. Jimmy began to caper about with elephantine tread. “Oochie,
coochie, oochie,” he called excitedly.
“What's the matter with you?” asked Alfred. The wail became a shriek.
“Good Heavens!” cried the anxious father, “it's my boy.” And with that
he pounced upon Jimmy, threw wide his ulster and snatched from his arms
Jimmy's latest contribution to Zoie's scheme of things.
As Aggie had previously remarked, all young babies look very much alike,
and to the inexperienced eye of this new and overwrought father, there
was no difference between the infant that he now pressed to his breast,
and the one that, unsuspected by him, lay peacefully dozing in the crib,
not ten feet from him. He gazed at the face of the newcomer with the
same ecstasy that he had felt in the possession of her predecessor. But
Zoie and Aggie were looking at each other with something quite different
from ecstasy.
“My boy,” exclaimed Alfred, with deep emotion, as he clasped the tiny
creature to his breast. Then he turned to Jimmy. “What were you doing
with my baby?” he demanded hotly.
“I--I was just taking him out for a little walk!” stammered Jimmy.
“You just try,” threatened Alfred, and he towered over the intimidated
Jimmy. “Are you crazy?”
Jimmy was of the opinion that he must be crazy or he would never have
found himself in such a predicament as this, but the anxious faces of
Zoie and Aggie, denied him the luxury of declaring himself so. He sank
mutely on the end of the couch and proceeded to sulk in silence.
As for Aggie and Zoie, they continued to gaze open-mouthed at Alfred,
who was waltzing about the room transported into a new heaven of delight
at having snatched his heir from the danger of another night ramble with
Jimmy.
“Did a horrid old Jimmy spoil his 'itty nap'?” he gurgled to Baby. Then
with a sudden exclamation of alarm, he turned toward the anxious women.
“Aggie!” he cried, as he stared intently into Baby's face. “Look--his
rash! It's turned IN!”
Aggie pretended to glance over Alfred's shoulder.
“Why so it has,” she agreed nervously.
“What shall we do?” cried the distraught Alfred.
“It's all right now,” counselled Aggie, “so long as it didn't turn in
too suddenly.”
“We'd better keep him warm, hadn't we?” suggested Alfred, remembering
Aggie's previous instructions on a similar occasion. “I'll put him in
his crib,” he decided, and thereupon he made a quick move toward the
bassinette.
Staggering back from the cradle with the unsteadiness of a drunken man
Alfred called upon the Diety. “What is THAT?” he demanded as he pointed
toward the unexpected object before him.
Neither Zoie, Aggie, nor Jimmy could command words to assist Alfred's
rapidly waning powers of comprehension, and it was not until he had
swept each face for the third time with a look of inquiry that Zoie
found breath to stammer nervously, “Why--why--why, that's the OTHER
one.”
“The other one?” echoed Alfred in a dazed manner; then he turned to
Aggie for further explanation.
“Yes,” affirmed Aggie, with an emphatic nod, “the other one.”
An undescribable joy was dawning on Alfred's face.
“You don't mean----” He stared from the infant in his arms to the one in
the cradle, then back again at Aggie and Zoie. The women solemnly nodded
their heads. Even Jimmy unblushingly acquiesced. Alfred turned toward
Zoie for the final confirmation of his hopes.
“Yes, dear,” assented Zoie sweetly, “that's Alfred.”
What Jimmy and the women saw next appeared to be the dance of a whirling
dervish; as a matter of fact, it was merely a man, mad with delight,
clasping two infants in long clothes and circling the room with them.
When Alfred could again enunciate distinctly, he rushed to Zoie's side
with the babes in his arms.
“My darling,” he exclaimed, “why didn't you tell me?”
“I was ashamed,” whispered Zoie, hiding her head to shut out the sight
of the red faces pressed close to hers.
“My angel!” cried Alfred, struggling to control his complicated
emotions; then gazing at the precious pair in his arms, he cast his eyes
devoutly toward heaven, “Was ever a man so blessed?”
Zoie peeped from the covers with affected shyness.
“You love me just as much?” she queried.
“I love you TWICE as much,” declared Alfred, and with that he sank
exhausted on the foot of the bed, vainly trying to teeter one son on
each knee.