His face covered with lather, and a shaving brush in one hand, Alfred
entered the room just as his friend was about to escape.

"Jimmy!" exclaimed the excited young father, "you're back."

"Oh, yes--yes," admitted Jimmy nervously, "I'm back."

"My boy!" cried Alfred, and he glanced toward the crib. "He's here!"

"Yes--yes," agreed Aggie uneasily, as she tried to place herself between
Alfred and the bassinette. "He's here, but you mayn't have him, Alfred."

"What?" exclaimed Alfred, trying to put her out of the way.

"Not yet," protested Aggie, "not just yet."

"Give him to me," demanded Alfred, and thrusting Aggie aside, he took
possession of the small mite in the cradle.

"But--but, Alfred," pleaded Aggie, "your face. You'll get him all wet."

Alfred did not heed her. He was bending over the cradle in an ecstasy.
"My boy!" he cried, "my boy!" Lifting the baby in his arms he circled
the room cooing to him delightedly.

"Was he away from home when his fadder came? Oh, me, oh, my! Coochy!
Coochy! Coochy!" Suddenly he remembered to whom he owed this wondrous
treasure and forgetful of the lather on his unshaven face he rushed
toward Zoie with an overflowing heart. "My precious!" he exclaimed, and
he covered her cheek with kisses.