"I didn't say any such thing," hedged Alfred.

"Then you DO," she accused him.

"I DON'T," he declared in self defence.

With a cry of joy, she sprang into his arms, clasped her fingers tightly behind his neck, and rained impulsive kisses upon his unsuspecting face.

For an instant, Alfred looked down at Zoie, undecided whether to strangle her or to return her embraces. As usual, his self-respect won the day for him and, with a determined effort, he lifted her high in the air, so that she lost her tenacious hold of him, and sat her down with a thud in the very same chair in which she had lately dropped his hat.

Having acted with this admirable resolution, he strode majestically toward the inner hall, but before he could reach it, Zoie was again on her feet, in a last vain effort to conciliate him. Turning, Alfred caught sight of his poor battered hat. This was the final spur to action. s.n.a.t.c.hing it up with one hand, and throwing his latchkey on the table with the other, he made determinedly for the outer door.

Screaming hysterically, Zoie caught him just as he reached the threshold and threw the whole weight of her body upon him.

"Alfred," she pleaded, "if you REALLY love me, you CAN'T leave me like this!" Her emotion was now genuine. He looked down at her gravely--then into the future.

"There are other things more important than what YOU call 'love,'" he said, very solemnly.

"There is such a thing as a soul, if you only knew it. And you have hurt mine through and through."

"But how, Alfred, how?" asked the small person, and there was a frown of genuine perplexity on her tiny puckered brow. "What have I REALLY DONE,"

She stroked his hand fondly; her baby eyes searched his face.

"It isn't so much what people DO to us that counts," answered Alfred in a proud hurt voice. "It's how much they DISAPPOINT us in what they do. I expected better of YOU," he said sadly.

"I'll DO better," coaxed Zoie, "if you'll only give me a chance."

He was half inclined to believe her.

"Now, Allie," she pleaded, perceiving that his resentment was dying and resolved to, at last, adopt a straight course, "if you'll only listen, I'll tell you the REAL TRUTH."

Unprepared for the electrical effect of her remark, Zoie found herself staggering to keep her feet. She gazed at Alfred in amazement. His arms were lifted to Heaven, his breath was coming fast.

"'The REAL TRUTH!'" he gasped, then bringing his crushed hat down on his forehead with a resounding whack, he rushed from her sight.

The clang of the closing elevator door brought Zoie to a realisation of what had actually happened. Determined that Alfred should not escape her she rushed to the hall door and called to him wildly. There was no answer. Running back to the room, she threw open the window and threw herself half out of it. She was just in time to see Alfred climb into a pa.s.sing taxi. "Alfred!" she cried. Then automatically she flew to the 'phone. "Give me 4302 Main," she called and she tried to force back her tears. "Is this Hardy & Company?" she asked.

"Well, this is Mrs. Hardy," she explained.

"I wish you'd ring me up the moment my husband comes in." There was a slight pause, then she clutched the receiver harder. "Not COMING back?"

she gasped. "Gone!--to Detroit?" A short moan escaped her lips. She let the receiver fall back on the hook and her head went forward on her outstretched arms.

CHAPTER X

When Jimmy came home to luncheon that day, Aggie succeeded in getting a general idea of the state of affairs in the Hardy household. Of course Jimmy didn't tell the whole truth. Oh, no--far from it. In fact, he appeared to be aggravatingly ignorant as to the exact cause of the Hardy upheaval. Of ONE thing, however, he was certain. "Alfred was going to quit Chicago and leave Zoie to her own devices."

"Jimmy!" cried Aggie. "How awful!" and before Jimmy was fairly out of the front gate, she had seized her hat and gloves and rushed to the rescue of her friend.

Not surprised at finding Zoie in a state of collapse, Aggie opened her arms sympathetically to receive the weeping confidences that she was sure would soon come.

"Zoie dear," she said as the fragile mite rocked to and fro. "What is it?" She pressed the soft ringlets from the girl's throbbing forehead.

"It's Alfred," sobbed Zoie. "He's gone!"

"Yes, I know," answered Aggie tenderly. "Isn't it awful? Jimmy just told me."

"Jimmy told you WHAT?" questioned Zoie, and she lifted her head and regarded Aggie with sudden uneasiness. Her friend's answer raised Jimmy considerably in Zoie's esteem. Apparently he had not breathed a word about the luncheon.

"Why, Jimmy told me," continued Aggie, "that you and Alfred had had another tiff, and that Alfred had gone for good."

"For GOOD!" echoed Zoie and her eyes were wide with terror. "Did Alfred tell Jimmy that?"

Aggie nodded.

"Then he MEANS it!" cried Zoie, at last fully convinced of the strength of Alfred's resolve. "But he shan't," she declared emphatically. "I won't let him. I'll go after him. He has no right----" By this time she was running aimlessly about the room.

"What did you do to him?" asked Aggie, feeling sure that Zoie was as usual at fault.

"Nothing," answered Zoie with wide innocent eyes.

"Nothing?" echoed Aggie, with little confidence in her friend's ability to judge impartially about so personal a matter.

"Absolutely nothing," affirmed Zoie. And there was no doubting that she at least believed it.

"What does he SAY," questioned Aggie diplomatically.

"He SAYS I 'hurt his soul.' Whatever THAT is," answered Zoie, and her face wore an injured expression. "Isn't that a nice excuse," she continued, "for leaving your lawful wedded wife?" It was apparent that she expected Aggie to rally strongly to her defence. But at present Aggie was bent upon getting facts.

"HOW did you hurt him?" she persisted.

"I ate lunch," said Zoie with the face of a cherub.

"With whom?" questioned Aggie slyly. She was beginning to scent the probable origin of the misunderstanding.

"It's of no consequence," answered Zoie carelessly; "I wouldn't have wiped my feet on the man." By this time she had entirely forgotten Aggie's proprietorship in the source of her trouble.

"But who WAS the man?" urged Aggie, and in her mind, she had already condemned him as a low, unprincipled creature.

"What does that matter?" asked Zoie impatiently. "It's ANY man with Alfred--you know that--ANY man!"

Aggie sank in a chair and looked at her friend in despair. "Why DO you do these things," she said wearily, "when you know how Alfred feels about them?"

"You talk as though I did nothing else," answered Zoie with an aggrieved tone. "It's the first time since I've been married that I've ever eaten lunch with any man but Alfred. I thought you'd have a little sympathy with me," she whimpered, "instead of putting me on the gridiron like everyone else does."

"Everyone else?" questioned Aggie, with recurring suspicion.

"I mean Alfred," explained Zoie. "HE'S 'everyone else' to me." And then with a sudden abandonment of grief, she threw herself prostrate at her friend's knees. "Oh, Aggie, what can I do?" she cried.

But Aggie was not satisfied with Zoie's fragmentary account of her latest escapade. "Is that the only thing that Alfred has against you?"