With more or less damage to himself consequent on his excitement, Alfred
completed his shaving and hastened to return to his wife and the babe.
Finding the supposedly ill Zoie careering about the centre of the room
expostulating with Aggie, the young man stopped dumbfounded on the
threshold.

"Zoie," he cried in astonishment. "What are you doing out of bed?"

For an instant the startled Zoie gazed at him stupefied.

"Why, I--I----" Her eyes sought Aggie's for a suggestion; there was no
answer there. It was not until her gaze fell upon the cradle that she
was seized by the desired inspiration.

"I just got up to see baby," she faltered, then putting one hand giddily
to her head, she pretended to sway.

In an instant Alfred's arms were about her. He bore her quickly to the
bed. "You stay here, my darling," he said tenderly. "I'll bring baby
to you," and after a solicitous caress he turned toward baby's crib and
bent fondly over the little one. "Ah, there's father's man," he said.
"Was he lonesome baby? Oh, goodis g'acious," then followed an incoherent
muttering of baby talk, as he bore the youngster toward Zoie's bed.
"Come, my precious," he called to Zoie, as he sank down on the edge of
the bed. "See mother's boy."

"Mother!" shrieked Zoie in horror. It had suddenly dawned upon her that
this was the name by which Alfred would no doubt call her for the rest
of her life. She almost detested him.