"Oh," said Aggie, with affected carelessness as she leaned over Alfred's shoulder and glanced at baby's forehead. "That is just a little rash."

"A rash!" exclaimed Alfred excitedly, "that's dangerous, isn't it? We'd better call up the doctor." And he rose and started hurriedly toward the telephone, baby in arms.

"Don't be silly," called Zoie, filled with vague alarm at the thought of the family physician's appearance and the explanations that this might entail.

Stepping between Alfred and the 'phone, Aggie protested frantically.

"You see, Alfred," she said, "it is better to have the rash OUT, it won't do any harm unless it turns IN."

"He's perfectly well," declared Zoie, "if you'll only put him in his crib and leave him alone."

Alfred looked down at his charge. "Is that right, son?" he asked, and he tickled the little fellow playfully in the ribs. "I'll tell you what,"

he called over his shoulder to Zoie, "he's a fine looking boy." And then with a mysterious air, he nodded to Aggie to approach. "Whom does he look like?" he asked.

Again Zoie sat up in anxiety. Aggie glanced at her, uncertain what answer to make.

"I--I hadn't thought," she stammered weakly.

"Go on, go on," exclaimed the proud young father, "you can't tell me that you can look at that boy and not see the resemblance."

"To whom?" asked Aggie, half fearfully.

"Why," said Alfred, "he's the image of Zoie."

Zoie gazed at the puckered red face in Alfred's arms. "What!" she shrieked in disgust, then fall back on her pillows and drew the lace coverlet over her face.

Mistaking Zoie's feeling for one of embarra.s.sment at being over-praised, Alfred bore the infant to her bedside. "See, dear," he persisted, "see for yourself, look at his forehead."

"I'd rather look at you," pouted Zoie, peeping from beneath the coverlet, "if you would only put that thing down for a minute."

"Thing?" exclaimed Alfred, as though doubting his own ears. But before he could remonstrate further, Zoie's arms were about his neck and she was pleading jealously for his attention.

"Please, Alfred," she begged, "I have scarcely had a look at you, yet."

Alfred shook his head and turned to baby with an indulgent smile. It was pleasant to have two such delightful creatures bidding for his entire attention.

"Dear me," he said to baby. "Dear me, tink of mudder wanting to look at a big u'gy t'ing like fadder, when she could look at a 'itty witty t'ing like dis," and he rose and crossed to the crib where he deposited the small creature with yet more gurgling and endearing.

Zoie's dreams of rapture at Alfred's home coming had not included such divided attention as he was now showing her and she was growing more and more desperate at the turn affairs had taken. She resolved to put a stop to his nonsense and to make him realise that she and no one else was the lode star of his existence. She beckoned to Aggie to get out of the room and to leave her a clear field and as soon as her friend had gone quietly into the next room, she called impatiently to Alfred who was still cooing rapturously over the young stranger. Finding Alfred deaf to her first entreaty, Zoie shut her lips hard, rearranged her pretty head-dress, drew one fascinating little curl down over her shoulder, reknotted the pink ribbon of her negligee, and then issued a final and imperious order for her husband to attend her.

"Yes, yes, dear," answered Alfred, with a shade of impatience. "I'm coming, I'm coming." And bidding a reluctant farewell to the small person in the crib, he crossed to her side.

Zoie caught Alfred's hand and drew him down to her; he smiled complacently.

"Well," he said in the patronising tone that Zoie always resented. "How is hubby's little girl?"

"It's about time," pouted Zoie, "that you made a little fuss over me for a change."

"My own!" murmured Alfred. He stooped to kiss the eager lips, but just as his young wife prepared to lend herself to his long delayed embrace, his mind was distracted by an uneasy thought. "Do you think that Baby is----"

He was not permitted to finish the sentence.

Zoie drew him back to her with a sharp exclamation.

"Think of ME for a while," she commanded.

"My darling," expostulated Alfred with a shade of surprise at her vehemence. "How could I think of anyone else?" Again he stooped to embrace her and again his mind was directed otherwise. "I wonder if Baby is warm enough," he said and attempted to rise.

"Wonder about ME for a while," snapped Zoie, clinging to him determinedly.

Again Alfred looked at her in amazement. Was it possible there was anything besides Baby worth wondering about? Whether there was or not, Zoie was no longer to be resisted and with a last regretful look at the crib, he resigned himself to giving his entire attention to his spoiled young wife.

Gratified by her hard-won conquest, Zoie now settled herself in Alfred's arms.

"You haven't told me what you did all the time that you were away," she reminded him.

"Oh, there was plenty to do," answered Alfred.

"Did you think of me every minute?" she asked jealously.

"That would be telling," laughed Alfred, as he pinched her small pink ear.

"I wish to be 'told,'" declared Zoie; "I don't suppose you realise it, but if I were to live a THOUSAND YEARS, I'd never be quite sure what you did during those FEW MONTHS."

"It was nothing that you wouldn't have been proud of," answered Alfred, with an unconscious expansion of his chest.

"Do you love me as much as ever?" asked Zoie.

"Behave yourself," answered Alfred, trying not to appear flattered by the discovery that his absence had undoubtedly caused her great uneasiness.

"Well, SAY it!" demanded Zoie.

"You know I do," answered Alfred, with the diffidence of a school boy.

"Then kiss me," concluded Zoie, with an air of finality that left Alfred no alternative.

As a matter of fact, Alfred was no longer seeking an alternative. He was again under the spell of his wife's adorable charms and he kissed her not once, but many times.

"Foolish child," he murmured, then he laid her tenderly against the large white pillows, remonstrating with her for being so spoiled, and cautioning her to be a good little girl while he went again to see about Baby.

Zoie clung to his hand and feigned approaching tears.

"You aren't thinking of me at all?" she pouted. "And kisses are no good unless you put your whole mind on them. Give me a real kiss!" she pleaded.

Again Alfred stooped to humour the small importunate person who was so jealous of his every thought, but just as his lips touched her forehead his ear was arrested by a sound as yet new both to him and to Zoie. He lifted his head and listened.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered Zoie, wondering if the cat could have got into the room.