The departure of Jimmy and the crazed mother was the occasion for a
general relaxing among the remaining occupants of the room. Exhausted
by what had passed Zoie had ceased to interest herself in the future. It
was enough for the present that she could sink back upon her pillows and
draw a long breath without an evil face bending over her, and without
the air being rent by screams.

As for Aggie, she fell back upon the window seat and closed her eyes.
The horrors into which Jimmy might be rushing had not yet presented
themselves to her imagination.

Of the three, Alfred was the only one who had apparently received
exhilaration from the encounter. He was strutting about the room with
the babe in his arms, undoubtedly enjoying the sensations of a hero.
When he could sufficiently control his feeling of elation, he looked
down at the small person with an air of condescension and again lent
himself to the garbled sort of language with which defenceless infants
are inevitably persecuted.

"Tink of dat horrid old woman wanting to steal our own little oppsie,
woppsie, toppsie babykins," he said. Then he turned to Zoie with an
air of great decision. "That woman ought to be locked up," he declared,
"she's dangerous," and with that he crossed to Aggie and hurriedly
placed the infant in her unsuspecting arms. "Here, Aggie," he said, "you
take Alfred and get him into bed."