1 82 1064 
 
 RGARET 
 
 YO
 
 POLLY OF THE CIRCUS
 
 'And he didn't care about you like that?" 
 he asked. (p. 158)
 
 POLLY 
 OF THE CIRCUS 
 
 BY MARGARET MAYO 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY HARRY M. BUNKER 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1908 
 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 Published September, 1908
 
 To My 
 'KLEINE MUTTER" 
 
 1824064
 
 Chapter I 
 
 THE band of the "Great American Circus" was 
 playing noisily. The performance was in full 
 swing. 
 
 Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing 
 tent sat a young, wistful-faced girl, chin in 
 hand, unheeding the chatter of the women about 
 her or the picturesque disarray of the surround- 
 ing objects. Her eyes had been so long accus- 
 tomed to the glitter and tinsel of circus fineries 
 that she saw nothing unusual in a picture that 
 might have held a painter spellbound. 
 
 Circling the inside of the tent and forming a 
 double line down the centre were partially un- 
 packed trunks belching forth impudent masses 
 of satins, laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, 
 and paste jewels. The scent of moist earth 
 mingled oddly with the perfumed odours of the 
 garments heaped on the grass. Here and there 
 high circles of lights threw a strong, steady 
 glare upon the half-clad figure of a robust acro- 
 bat, or the thin, drooping shoulders of a less
 
 2 Polly of the Circus 
 
 stalwart sister. Temporary ropes stretched 
 from one pole to another, were laden with bright- 
 coloured stockings, gaudy, spangled gowns, or 
 dusty street clothes, discarded by the perform- 
 ers before slipping into their circus attire. There 
 were no nails or hooks, so hats and veils were 
 pinned to the canvas walls. 
 
 The furniture was limited to one camp chair 
 in front of each trunk, the till of which served as 
 a tray for the paints, powders and other essen- 
 tials of "make-up." 
 
 A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, 
 so that the performers might wash the delicately 
 shaded tights, handkerchiefs and other small 
 articles not to be entrusted to the slow, careless 
 process of the village laundry. Some of these 
 had been washed to-night and hung to dry on 
 the lines between the dusty street garments. 
 
 Women whose "turns" came late sat about 
 half-clothed reading, crocheting or sewing, 
 while others added pencilled eyebrows, powder or 
 rouge to their already exaggerated "make-ups." 
 Here and there a child was putting her sawdust 
 baby to sleep in the till of her trunk, before 
 beginning her part in the evening's entertain-
 
 Polly of the Circus 3 
 
 ment. Young and old went about their duties 
 with a systematic, business-like air, and even the 
 little knot of excited women near Polly it 
 seemed that one of the men had upset a circus 
 tradition kept a sharp lookout for their "turns." 
 
 "What do you think about it, Polly?" asked a 
 handsome brunette, as she surveyed herself in the 
 costume of a Roman charioteer. 
 
 "About what?" asked Polly vacantly. 
 
 "Leave Poll alone ; she's in one of her trances !" 
 called a motherly, good-natured woman whose 
 trunk stood next to Polly's, and whose business 
 was to support a son and three daughters upon 
 stalwart shoulders, both figuratively and liter- 
 ally. 
 
 "Well, 7 ain't in any trance," answered the 
 dark girl, "and / think it's pretty tough for him 
 to take up with a rank outsider, and expect us to 
 warm up to her as though he'd married one of 
 our own folks." She tossed her head, the pride 
 of class distinction welling high in her ample 
 bosom. 
 
 "He ain't asking us to warm up to her," con- 
 tradicted Mademoiselle Eloise, a pale, light- 
 haired sprite, who had arrived late and was
 
 4 Polly of the Circus 
 
 making undignified efforts to get out of her 
 clothes by way of her head. She was Polly's 
 understudy and next in line for the star place in 
 the bill. 
 
 "Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of 
 Death' stunt, ain't he?" continued the brunette. 
 " 'Course that ain't a regular circus act," she 
 added, somewhat mollified, "and so far she's had 
 to dress with the 'freaks,' but the next thing we 
 know, he'll be ringin' her in on a regular stunt 
 and be puttin' her in to dress with us." . 
 
 "No danger of that," sneered the blonde; 
 "Barker is too old a stager to mix up his sheep 
 and his goats." 
 
 Polly had again lost the thread of the con- 
 versation. Her mind had gone roving to the 
 night when the frightened girl about whom they 
 were talking had made her first appearance in 
 the circus lot, clinging timidly to the hand of 
 the man who had just made her his wife. Her 
 eyes had met Polly's, with a look of appeal that 
 had gone straight to the child's simple heart. 
 
 A few nights later the newcomer had allowed 
 herself to be strapped into the cumbersome 
 "Leap of Death" machine which hurled itself
 
 Polly of the Circus 5 
 
 through space at each performance, and flung 
 itself down with force enough to break the neck 
 of any unskilled rider. Courage and steady 
 nerve were the requisites for the job, so the 
 manager had said; but any physician would 
 have told him that only a trained acrobat could 
 long endure the nervous strain, the muscular 
 tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal. 
 
 What matter? The few dollars earned in this 
 way would mean a great deal to the mother, 
 whom the girl's marriage had left desolate. 
 
 Polly had looked on hungrily the night that 
 the mother had taken the daughter in her arms 
 to say farewell in the little country town where 
 the circus had played before her marriage. She 
 could remember no woman's arms about her, for 
 it was fourteen years since tender hands had 
 carried her mother from the performers' tent 
 into the moonlit lot to die. The baby was so 
 used to seeing "Mumsie" throw herself wearily 
 on the ground after coming out of the "big 
 top" exhausted, that she crept to the woman's 
 side as usual that night, and gazed laughingly 
 into the sightless eyes, gurgling and prattling 
 and stroking the unresponsive face. There
 
 6 Polly of the Circus 
 
 were tears from those who watched, but no word 
 was spoken. 
 
 Clown Toby and the big "boss canvas-man" 
 Jim had always taken turns amusing and 
 guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in 
 the ring. So Toby now carried the babe to an- 
 other side of the lot, and Jim bore the lifeless 
 body of the mother to the distant ticket-wagon, 
 now closed for the night, and laid it upon the 
 seller's cot. 
 
 "It's allus like this in the end," he murmured, 
 as he drew a piece of canvas over the white 
 face and turned away to give orders to the men 
 who were beginning to load the "props" used 
 earlier in the performance. 
 
 When the show moved on that night it was 
 Jim's strong arms that lifted the mite of a 
 Polly close to his stalwart heart, and climbed 
 with her to the high seat on the head wagon. 
 Uncle Toby was entrusted with the brown 
 satchel in which the mother had always carried 
 Polly's scanty wardrobe. It seemed to these 
 two men that the eyes of the woman were fixed 
 steadily upon them. 
 
 Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-
 
 Folly of the Circus 7 
 
 natured fellow, at first mumbled something 
 about the kid being "excess baggage," but his 
 objections were only half-hearted, for like the 
 others, he was already under the hypnotic spell 
 of the baby's round, confiding eyes, and he 
 eventually contented himself with an occasional 
 reprimand to Toby, who was now sometimes late 
 on his cues. Polly wondered, at these times, 
 why the old man's stories were so suddenly cut 
 short just as she was so "comfy" in the soft grass 
 at his feet. The boys who used to "look sharp" 
 because of their boss at loading time, now 
 learned that they might loiter so long as "Muvver 
 Jim" was "hikin' it round for the kid." It was 
 Polly who had dubbed big Jim "Muvver," and 
 the sobriquet had stuck to liim in spite of his 
 six feet two, and shoulders that an athlete might 
 have envied. Little by little, Toby grew more 
 stooped and small lines of anxiety crept into the 
 brownish circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips that 
 had once shut so firmly became tender and trem- 
 ulous, but neither of the men would willingly 
 have gone back to the old emptiness. 
 
 It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly 
 first managed to climb up on the pole of an un-
 
 8 Polly of the Circus 
 
 hitched wagon and from there to the back of a 
 friendly, Shetland pony. Jim and Toby had 
 been "neglectin' her eddication" they declared, 
 and from that time on, the blood of Polly's an- 
 cestors was given full encouragement. 
 
 Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of 
 adding the kid to the daily parade. She made 
 her first appearance in the streets upon some- 
 thing very like a Newfoundland dog, guarded 
 from the rear by Jim, and from the fore by a 
 white-faced clown who was thought to be all the 
 funnier because he twisted his neck so much. 
 
 From the street parade to Polly's first appear- 
 ance in the "big top," had seemed a short while 
 to Jim and Toby. They were proud to see her 
 circling the ring in bright colours and to hear 
 the cheers of the people, but a sense of loss was 
 upon them. 
 
 "I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who 
 now took upon himself the credit of Polly's 
 triumph. 
 
 And what a triumph it was ! 
 
 Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as 
 she might have done on the "concert boards." 
 She swayed gracefully with the music. Her tiny
 
 Polly of the Circus 9 
 
 sandals twinkled as she stood first upon one foot 
 and then upon the other. 
 
 Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks 
 that night ; and Jim left the loading of jthe 
 wagons to take care of itself, while he hovered 
 near the entrance, anxious and breathless. The 
 performers crowded around the girl with out- 
 stretched hands and congratulations, as she came 
 out of the ring to cheers and applause. 
 
 But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of 
 the buttons that his clumsy fingers used to force 
 into the stiff, starchy holes too small for them 
 and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends ; and 
 Toby was remembering the little shoes that had 
 once needed to be laced in the cold, dark morn- 
 ings, and the strings that were always snapping. 
 
 Something had gone. 
 
 They were not philosophers to reason like 
 Emerson, that for everything we lose we gain 
 something; they were simple souls, these two, 
 they could only feel.
 
 Chapter II 
 
 WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening 
 indifferently to the chatter about the "Leap of 
 Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot outside, open- 
 ing and shutting a small, leather bag which he 
 had bought for her that day. He was as blind 
 to the picturesque outdoor life as she to her 
 indoor surroundings, for he, too, had been with 
 the circus since his earliest recollection. 
 
 The grass enclosure, where he waited, was 
 shut in by a circle of tents and wagons. The 
 great, red property vans were waiting to be 
 loaded with the costumes and tackle which were 
 constantly being brought from the "big top," 
 where the evening performance was now going 
 on. The gay striped curtains at the rear of 
 the tent were looped back to give air to the pant- 
 ing musicians, who sat just inside. Through 
 the opening, a glimpse of the audience might be 
 had, tier upon tier, fanning and shifting un- 
 easily. Near the main tent stood the long, low 
 dressing "top," with the women performers
 
 Polly of the Circus 11 
 
 stowed away in one end, the "ring horses" in the 
 centre, and the men performers in the other end. 
 
 A temporary curtain was hung between the 
 main and the dressing tent, to shut out the 
 curious mob that tried to peep in at the back 
 lot for a glimpse of things not to be seen in the 
 ring. 
 
 Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of 
 the tents, waved and floated in the night air and 
 beckoned to the towns-people on the other side 
 to make haste to get their places, forget their 
 cares, and be children again. 
 
 Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the 
 distant red fire shot into the sky, accompanied 
 by the cries of the peanut "butchers," the pop- 
 corn boys, the lemonade venders, and the ex- 
 hortations of the side-show "spieler," whose fly- 
 ing banners bore the painted reproductions of 
 his "freaks." Here and there stood unhitched 
 chariots, half filled trunks, trapeze tackle, paper 
 hoops, stake pullers or other "properties" 
 necessary to the show. 
 
 Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil 
 lamps and lanterns gave light for the loading of 
 the wagons.
 
 12 Polly of the Circus 
 
 There was a constant stream of life shooting 
 in and out from the dressing tent to the "big 
 top," as gaily decked men, women and animals 
 came or went. 
 
 Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, 
 waiting their turn to be dressed as lions or bears. 
 The wise old goose, with his modest grey mate, 
 pecked at the green grass or turned his head 
 from side to side, watching the singing clown, 
 who rolled up the painted carcass and long neck 
 of the imitation giraffe from which two property 
 men had just slipped, their legs still encased in 
 stripes. 
 
 Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exer- 
 cising, feet in air, in the hope of some day get- 
 ting into the performers' ring. Property men 
 stole a minute's sleep in the soft warm grass 
 while they waited for more tackle to load in the 
 wagons. Children of the performers were swing- 
 ing on the tent ropes, chattering monkeys sat 
 astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting their en- 
 trance to the ring. The shrieks of the hyenas 
 in the distant animal tent, the roaring of the 
 lions and the trumpeting of the elephants min- 
 gled with the incessant clamour of the band.
 
 Polly of the Circus 13 
 
 And back of all this, pointing upward in mute 
 protest, rose a solemn church spire, white and 
 majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moon- 
 lit hills, that encircled the whole lurid picture. 
 Jim's eyes turned absently toward the church as 
 he sat fumbling with the lock of the little brown 
 satchel. 
 
 He had gone from store to store in the various 
 towns where they had played looking for some- 
 thing to inspire wonder in the heart of a miss, 
 newly arrived at her sixteenth year. Only the 
 desperation of a last moment had forced him to 
 decide upon the imitation alligator bag, which 
 he now held in his hand. 
 
 It looked small and mean to him as the momenb 
 of presentation approached, and he was glad 
 that the saleswoman in the little country store 
 had suggested the addition of ribbons and laces, 
 I which he now drew from the pocket of his cordu- 
 j ro}'s. He placed his red and blue treasures very 
 \ carefully in the bottom of the satchel, and re- 
 membered with regret the strand of coral beads 
 which he had so nearly bought to go with them. 
 He opened the large property trunk by his 
 side, and took from it. a laundry box, which held
 
 14 Polly of the Circus 
 
 a little tan coat, that was to be Toby's contri- 
 bution to the birthday surprise. He was big- 
 hearted enough to be glad that Toby's gift 
 seemed finer and more useful than his. 
 
 It was only when the "Leap of Death" act 
 preceding Polly's turn was announced, that the 
 big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on the 
 satchel and coat, and hid them away in the big 
 property trunk. She would be out in a minute, 
 and these wonders were not to be revealed to her 
 until the close of the night's performance. 
 
 Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon 
 it, feeling like a criminal because he was hiding 
 something from Polly. 
 
 His consciousness of guilt was increased as he 
 recalled how often she had forbidden Toby and 
 himself to rush into reckless extravagances for 
 her sake, and how she had been more nearly 
 angry than he had ever seen her, when they had 
 put their month's salaries together to buy her 
 the spangled dress for her first appearance. It 
 had taken a great many apologies and promises 
 as to their future behaviour to calm her, and now 
 they had again disobeyed her. It would be a 
 great relief when to-night's ordeal was over.
 
 Polly of the Circus 15 
 
 Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from 
 the dressing tent and stopped to gaze at the 
 nearby church steeple. The incongruity of the 
 slang, that soon came from her delicately formed 
 lips, was lost upon him as she turned her eyes 
 toward him. 
 
 "Say, Jim," she said, with a Western drawl, 
 "them's a funny lot of guys what goes to them 
 church places, ain't they?" 
 
 "Most everybody has got some kind of a bug," 
 Jim assented; "I guess they don't do much 
 harm." 
 
 " 'Member the time you took me into one of 
 them places to get me out a the rain, the Sun- 
 day our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch 
 "we butted into wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers 
 no cause for worry with that show a' theirn, 
 would they, Jim?" She looked at him with 
 withering disgust. "Say, wasn't that the punki- 
 est stunt that fellow in black was doin' on the 
 platform? You said Joe was only ten minutes 
 gettin' the tire onto our wheel, but say, you 
 take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another 
 ten minutes as long as that one, I'd be too old 
 to go on a-ridin'."
 
 16 Polly of the Circus 
 
 Jim " 'lowed" some church shows might be bet- 
 ter than "that un," but Polly said he could have 
 her end of the bet, and summed up by declaring 
 it no wonder that the yaps in these towns was 
 daffy about circuses, if they didn't have nothin' 
 better an' church shows to go to. 
 
 One of the grooms was entering the lot with 
 Polly's horse. She stooped to tighten one of 
 her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw her sway 
 slightly and put one hand to her head. He 
 looked at her sharply, remembering her faint- 
 ness in the parade that morning. 
 
 "You ain't feeling right," he said uneasily. 
 
 "You just bet I am," Poll}' answered with an 
 independent toss of her head. "This is the night 
 we're goin' to make them rubes in there sit up, 
 ain't it, Bingo?" she added, placing one arm 
 affectionately about the neck of the big, white 
 horse that stood waiting near the entrance. 
 
 "You bin ridin' too reckless lately," said Jim, 
 sternly, as he followed her. "I don't like it. 
 There ain't no need of your puttin' in all them 
 extra stunts. Your act is good enough without 
 'em. Nobody else ever done 'em, an' nobody'd 
 miss 'em if you left 'em out."
 
 Polly of the Circus 17 
 
 Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her 
 voice. The music was swelling for her entrance. 
 
 "You ain't my mother, Jim, you're my grand- 
 mother," she taunted; and, with a crack of her 
 whip she was away on Bingo's back. 
 
 "It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into 
 her," Jim mumbled as he turned away, still see- 
 ing the flash in the departing girl's eyes.
 
 Chapter III 
 
 POLLY and Bingo always made the audience "sit 
 up" when they swept into the ring. She was so 
 young, so gaily clad, so light and joyous in all 
 her poses. She seemed scarcely to touch the 
 back of the white horse, as they dashed round the 
 ring in the glare of the tent lights. The other 
 performers went through their work mechani- 
 cally while Polly rode, for they knew the audi- 
 ence was watching her only. 
 
 As for Polly, her work had never lost its first 
 interest. Jim may have been right when he said 
 that the spirit of the dead mother had got into 
 her; but it must have been an unsatisfied spirit, 
 unable to fulfil its ambition in the body that 
 once held it, for it sometimes played strange 
 pranks with Polly. To-night, her eyes shone 
 and her lips were parted in anticipation, as she 
 leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers 
 of the wheel of silken ribbons held by Barker in 
 the centre of the ring, and by Toby and the 
 "tumblers" on the edge of the bank.
 
 Polly of the Circus 19 
 
 With each change of her act, the audience 
 cheered and frantically applauded. The band 
 played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the end 
 of her turn was coming. The "tumblers" ar- 
 ranged themselves around the ring with paper 
 hoops ; Bingo was fairly racing. She went 
 through the first hoop with a crash of tearing 
 paper and cheers from the audience. 
 
 "Heigh, Bingo !" she shouted, as she bent her 
 knees to make ready for the final leap. 
 
 Bingo's neck was stretched. He had never 
 gone so fast before. Barker looked uneasy. 
 Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed tricks. 
 Jim watched anxiously from the entrance. 
 
 The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken. 
 The attendant turned his eyes to glance at the 
 oncoming girl; the hoop shifted slightly in his 
 clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from 
 Bingo's back, trusting to her first calculation. 
 Her forehead struck the edge of the hoop. She 
 clutched wildly at the air. Bingo galloped on, 
 and she fell to the ground, striking her head 
 against the iron-bound stake at the edge of the 
 ring. 
 
 Everything stopped. There was a gasp of hor-
 
 20 Polly of the Circus 
 
 ror ; the musicians dropped their instruments ; 
 Bingo halted and looked back uneasily ; she lay 
 unconscious and seemingly lifeless. 
 
 A great cry went up in the tent. Panic- 
 stricken, men, women and children began to 
 clamber down from their seats, while others 
 nearest the ground attempted to jump into the 
 ring. Barker, still grasping his long whip, 
 rushed to the girl's side, and shouted wildly to 
 Toby: 
 
 "Say something, you. Get 'em back !" 
 
 Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, 
 his features worked convulsively, but he could 
 not speak. His grief was so grotesque, that the 
 few who saw him laughed hysterically. He could 
 not even go to Polly, his feet seemed pinned to 
 the earth. 
 
 Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the 
 audience. He lifted the limp form tenderly, and 
 kneeling in the ring held her bruised head in his 
 hands. 
 
 "Can't you get a doctor!" he shouted desper- 
 ately to Barker. 
 
 "Here's the doctor!" some one called; and a 
 stranger came toward them. He bent over the
 
 Polly of the Circus 21 
 
 seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on the tiny 
 wrist, his ear to the heart. 
 
 "Well, sir?" Jim faltered, for he had caught 
 the puzzled look in the doctor's eyes as his deft 
 hand pressed the cruelly wounded head. 
 
 "I can't tell just yet," said the doctor. "She 
 must be taken away." 
 
 "Where can we take her?" asked Jim, a look 
 of terror in his great, troubled eyes. 
 
 "The parsonage is the nearest house," said the 
 doctor. "I am sure the pastor will be glad to 
 have her there until we can find out how badly 
 she is hurt." 
 
 In an instant Barker was back in the centre 
 of the ring. He announced that Polly's injuries 
 were slight, called the attention of the audience 
 to the wonderful concert to take place, and 
 bade them make ready for the thrilling chariot 
 race which would end the show. 
 
 Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden 
 and staggered out of the tent, while the band 
 played furiously and the people fell back into 
 their seats. The Roman chariots thundered and 
 clattered around the outside of the ring, the 
 audience cheered the winner of the race, and 
 for the moment Polly was forgotten.
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 THE blare of the circus band had been a sore 
 temptation to Mandy Jones all afternoon and 
 evening. Again and again it had dragged her 
 from her work to the study window, from which 
 she could see the wonders so tantalisingly near. 
 Mandy was housekeeper for the Rev. John 
 Douglas, but the unwashed supper dishes did 
 not trouble her, as she watched the lumbering 
 elephants, the restless lions, the long-necked gi- 
 raffes and the striped zebras, that came and went 
 in the nearby circus lot. And yet, in spite of 
 her own curiosity, she could not forgive her 
 vagrant "worse half," Hasty, who had been 
 lured from duty early in the day. She had once 
 dubbed him Hasty, in a spirit of derision, and 
 the name had clung to him. The sarcasm 
 seemed doubty appropriate to-night, for he had 
 been away since ten that morning, and it was 
 now past nine. 
 
 The young pastor for a time had enjoyed 
 Mandy's tirades against her husband, but when
 
 ' 
 
 Polly of the Circus 25 
 
 she began calling shrilly out of the window to 
 chance acquaintances for news of him, he slipped 
 quietly into the next room to finish to-morrow's 
 sermon. Mandy renewed her operations at the 
 window with increased vigour when the pastor 
 had gone. She was barely saved from pitching 
 head foremost into the lot, by the timely arrival 
 of Deacon Strong's daughter, who managed, 
 with difficulty, to connect the excited woman's 
 feet with the floor. 
 
 "Foh de Lor' sake!" Mandy gasped, as she 
 stood panting for breath and blinking at the 
 pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; "I was suah 
 most gone dat time." Then followed another 
 outburst against the delinquent Hasty. 
 
 But the deacon's daughter did not hear ; her 
 eyes were already wandering anxiously to the 
 lights and the tinsel of the little world beyond 
 the window. 
 
 This was not the first time to-day that Mandy 
 had found herself talking to space. There had 
 been a steady stream of callers at the parsonage 
 since eleven that morning, but she had long ago 
 confided to the pastor that she suspected their 
 reasons.
 
 24 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors," 
 she said, "and a-askin' why you don' stop de cir- 
 cus from a-showin' nex' to de church and den 
 a-cranin' dar necks out de winder, till I can't 
 get no housework done." 
 
 "That's only human nature," Douglas had an- 
 swered with a laugh ; but Mandy had declared 
 that she knew another name for it, and had 
 mumbled something about "hypocritters," as 
 she seized her broom and began to sweep imag- 
 inary tracks from in front of the door. 
 
 Many times she had made up her mind to let 
 the next caller know just what she thought of 
 "hypocritters," but her determination was usu- 
 ally weakened by her still greater desire to ex- 
 cite increased wonder in the faces of her visitors. 
 
 Divided between these two inclinations, she 
 gazed at Julia now ; the shining eyes of the dea- 
 con's daughter conquered, and she launched 
 forth into an eager description of how she had 
 just seen a "wondeful striped anamule" with 
 a "pow'ful long neck walk right out of the 
 tent," and how he had "come apart afore her 
 very eyes," and two men had slipped "right out 
 &' his Jnsides." Mandy was so carried away by
 
 Polly of the Circus 25 
 
 her own eloquence and so busy showing Julia 
 the sights beyond the window, that she did not 
 hear Miss Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who 
 entered, followed by the Widow Willoughby 
 dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the 
 hand. 
 
 The women were protesting because their choir 
 practice of "What Shall the Harvest Be?" had 
 been interrupted by the unrequested acompani- 
 ment of the "hoochie coochie" from the nearby 
 circus band. 
 
 "It's scandalous !" Miss Perkins snapped. 
 "Scandalous ! And somebody ought to stop it." 
 She glanced about with an unmistakable air of 
 grievance at the closed doors, -feeling that the 
 pastor was undoubtedly behind one of them, 
 when he ought to be out taking action against 
 the things that her soul abominated. 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I've done all that 7 could," 
 piped the widow, with a meek, martyred air. She 
 was always martyred. She considered it an ap- 
 propriate attitude for a widow. "He can't 
 blame me if the choir is out of key to-morrow." 
 
 "Mercy me !" interrupted the spinster, "if there 
 isn't Julia Strong a-leaning right out of that
 
 26 Polly of the Circus 
 
 window a-looking at the circus, and her pa a 
 deacon of the church, and this the house of the 
 pastor. It's shocking! I must go to her." 
 
 "Ma, let me see, too," begged Willie, as he 
 tugged at his mother's skirts. 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby hesitated. Miss Perkins was 
 certainly taking a long while for her argument 
 with Julia. The glow from the red powder out- 
 side the window was positively alarming. 
 
 "Dear me !" she said, "I wonder if there can be 
 a fire." And with this pretext for investigation, 
 she, too, joined the little group at the window. 
 
 A few moments later when Douglas entered 
 for a fresh supply of paper, the backs of the 
 company were toward him. He crossed to the 
 study table without disturbing his visitors, and 
 smiled to himself at the eager way in which they 
 were hanging out of the window. 
 
 Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and 
 twenty, frank and boyish in manner, confident 
 and light-hearted in spirit. He had seemed too 
 young to the deacons when he was appointed 
 to their church, and his keen enjoyment of out- 
 door games and other healthful sports robbed 
 him of a certain dignity in their eyes. Some of
 
 Polly of the Circus 27 
 
 the women of the congregation had been in- 
 clined to side with the deacons, for it hurt their 
 vanity that the pastor found so many other in- 
 terests when he might have been sitting in dark, 
 stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; 
 but Douglas had been either unconscious of or 
 indifferent to their resentment, and had gone on 
 his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable 
 conviction of right, that had only left them 
 floundering. He intended to quit the room now 
 unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset 
 a chair as he turned from the table. This 
 brought a chorus of exclamations from the 
 women, who chattering rushed quickly toward 
 him. 
 
 "What do you think of my naughty boy, 
 Willie?" simpered the widow. "He dragged me 
 quite to the window." 
 
 Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five- 
 foot-six widow and then at the helpless, red- 
 haired urchin by her side, but he made no com- 
 ment beyond offering a chair to each of the 
 women. 
 
 "Our choir practice had to be entirely discon- 
 tinued," declared Miss Perkins sourly, as she
 
 28 Polly of the Circus 
 
 accepted the proffered chair, adjusted her skirts 
 for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the parson, 
 who had dutifully seated himself near the table. 
 
 / 
 
 "I am sure / have as true an ear as anybody," 
 whimpered the widow, with an injured air; "but 
 I defy any one to lead 'What Shall the Harvest 
 Be?' to an accompaniment like that" She 
 jerked her hand in the direction of the window. 
 The band was again playing the "hoochie 
 coochie." 
 
 "Never mind about the choir practice," said 
 Douglas, with a smile. "It is soul not skill that 
 our congregation needs in its music. As for 
 that music out there, it is not without its com- 
 pensations. Why, the small boys would rather 
 hear that band than the finest church organ in 
 the world." 
 
 "And the small boys would rather see the cir- 
 cus than to hear you preach, most likely," 
 snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult to 
 injury for him to try to console her. 
 
 "Of course they would; and so would some of 
 the grown-ups if they'd only tell the truth about 
 it," said Douglas, laughing. 
 
 "What !" exclaimed Miss Perkins.
 
 Polly of the Circus 29 
 
 "Why not?" asked Douglas. "I am sure I 
 don't know what they do inside the tents, but 
 the parade looked very promising." 
 
 "The parad-el" the two women echoed in one 
 breath. "Did you see the parade?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Douglas, enthusiastically. 
 "But it didn't compare with the one I saw at the 
 age of eight." He turned his head to one side 
 and looked into space with a reminiscent smile. 
 The widow's red-haired boy crept close to him. 
 
 "The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice," 
 he continued, dreamily, "the elephants huge as 
 mountains, the great calliope wafted my soul to 
 the very skies, and I followed that parade right 
 into the circus lot." 
 
 "Did you seed inside de tent?" Willie asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I didn't hare enough money for that," Doug- 
 las answered, frankly. He turned to the small 
 boy and pinched his ear. There was sad dis- 
 appointment in the youngster's face, but he 
 brightened again, when the parson confessed that 
 he "peeped.** 
 
 "A parson peeping !" cried the thin-lipped Miss 
 Perkins.
 
 30 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "I was not a parson then," corrected Douglas, 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 "You were going to be," persisted the spinster. 
 
 "I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact." 
 
 The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a di- 
 version. He was looking very sheepish. 
 
 "Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!" said 
 Mandy. 
 
 "Hasty, where have you been all day?" de- 
 manded Douglas, severely. 
 
 Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for 
 time. "Did yo' say whar's I been, sah?" 
 
 "Dat's what he done ast yo',*' Mandy 
 prompted, threateningly. 
 
 "I bin 'ceived, Mars John," declared Hasty, 
 solemnly. Mandy snorted incredulously. Douglas 
 waited. 
 
 "A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis 
 mawnin' dat ef I carry water fo' de el'phants, 
 he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin', an' I make a 
 'greement wid him. Mars John, did yo' ebber 
 seed an' el'phant drink?" he asked, rolling his 
 eyes. John shook his head. 
 
 "Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a' his'n into de 
 pail, jes' once an swish water gone."
 
 Polly of the Circus 31 
 
 Douglas laughed ; and Mandy muttered, sullenly. 
 
 "Well, sah," continued Hasty, "I tote water 
 fo' dem el'phants all day long, an' when I cum 
 roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't let me 
 in. An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey 
 pulls me out by de laigs an' beats me." He 
 looked from one to the other expecting sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "Sarves you right," was Mandy's unfeeling re- 
 ply. "If yo's so anxious to be a-totin' water, 
 jes' yo' come along outside and tote some fo' 
 Mandy." 
 
 "I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy," pro- 
 tested Hasty. "I'se hurted in mah arm." 
 
 "What hurt yo'?" 
 
 "Tiger." 
 
 "A tiger?" exclaimed the women in unison. 
 
 "Done chawed it mos' off," he declared, sol- 
 emnly. "Deacon Elverson, he seed it, an' he says 
 I's hurt bad." 
 
 "Deacon Elverson?" cried the spinster. "Was 
 Deacon Elverson at the circus?" 
 
 "He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as 
 me," Hasty answered, innocently. 
 
 "You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen,"
 
 32 Polly of the Circus 
 
 said Douglas to Mandy, with a dry smile ; "he's 
 talking too much for a wounded man." 
 
 Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, 
 advising him with fine scorn "to get de tiger to 
 chaw off his laigs, so's he wouldn't have to walk 
 no mo'." 
 
 The women gazed at each other with lips closed 
 tightly. Elverson's behaviour was beyond their 
 power of expression. Miss Perkins turned to the 
 pastor, as though he were somehow to blame for 
 the deacon's backsliding, but before she could 
 find words to argue the point, the timid little 
 deacon appeared in the doorway, utterly uncon- 
 scious of the hostile reception that Hasty had 
 prepared for him. He glanced nervously from 
 one set face to the other, then coughed behind 
 his hat. 
 
 "We're all very much interested in the circus," 
 said Douglas. "Can't you tell us about it?" 
 
 "I just went into the lot to look for my son," 
 stammered the deacon. "I feared Peter had 
 strayed." 
 
 "Why, deacon," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I 
 just stopped by your house and saw Mrs. Elver- 
 son putting Peter to bed."
 
 Polly of the Circus 33 
 
 The deacon was saved from further embar- 
 rassment by an exclamation from Julia, who 
 had stayed at the window. "Oh, look ; something 
 lias happened!" she cried. "There's a crowd. 
 They are coming this way." 
 
 Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and 
 saw an excited mob collecting before the en- 
 trance to the main tent. He had time to dis- 
 cover no more before Mandy burst in at the 
 door, panting with excitement and rolling her 
 large, white-rimmed eyeballs. 
 
 "Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off 
 her hoss !" she cried. "Dr. Hartley say can 
 dey bring her in heah?" 
 
 "Of course," said Douglas, hurrying outside. 
 
 There were horrified exclamations from the 
 women, who were aghast at the idea of a circus 
 rider in the parsonage. In their helpless in- 
 dignation, they turned upon the little deacon, 
 feeling intuitively that he was enjoying the 
 drama. Elrerson was retreating toward the 
 door when he was suddenly thrust aside bj 
 Douglas. 
 
 In the young pastor's arms was a white, spai?- 
 gled burden of humanity, her slender arm hung
 
 34 Polly of the Circus 
 
 lifeless over his shoulder. The silk stocking 
 was torn from one bruised ankle; her hair 
 fell across her face, veiling it from the un- 
 friendly glances of the women. Douglas 
 passed out of sight up the stairway without 
 looking to the right or left, followed by the 
 doctor. 
 
 Mandy reached the front door in time to push 
 back a crowd of intruders. She had barely 
 closed the door when it was thrust open by Jim. 
 
 "Where is she?" he demanded. 
 
 "Go 'way f 'um here !" cried Mandy, as her 
 eyes unconsciously sought the stairs. 
 
 Jim followed the direction of her glance, and 
 cleared the steps at a bound. Mandy pursued 
 him, muttering angrily. Deacon Elverson, too, 
 was about to follow, when a grim reminder from 
 Miss Perkins brought him around and he made 
 for the door instead. He started back on open- 
 ing ib, for standing on the threshold was a 
 clown in his grotesque "make-up" ; his white 
 clothes were partially concealed b} r a large, 
 travelling ulster, held together by one button. 
 In one hand he carried a small leather satchel; 
 in the other a girl's sailor hat ; a little tan coat
 
 Polly of the Circus 35 
 
 was thrown across his arm. The giggles of the 
 boy hiding behind his mother's skirt were the 
 only greetings received by the trembling old man 
 in the doorway. 
 
 He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly 
 face to the other, waiting for a word of invita- 
 tion to enter ; but none came. 
 
 "Excuse me," he said; "I just brought some 
 of her little things. She'd better put on her 
 coat when she goes out. It's gettin' kinder 
 chilly." 
 
 He looked again into the blank faces ; still no 
 one spoke. He stepped forward, trembling with 
 anxiety. A sudden fear clutched at his heart, 
 the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red 
 painted lips began to quiver. 
 
 "It ain't It ain't that, is it?" he faltered, 
 unable to utter the word that filled him with 
 horror. 
 
 Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched 
 by the anguish in the old man's voice. "I guess 
 you will find the person you are looking for up- 
 stairs," she answered tartly ; and flounced out 
 of the house, calling to Julia and the others to 
 follow her, and declaring that she would soon
 
 36 Polly of the Circus 
 
 let folks know how the parson had brought a 
 "circus ridin' girl" into the parsonage. 
 
 The painted clown stood alone, looking from 
 one wall to the other, then he crossed the room 
 and placed the alligator satchel and the little 
 coat and hat on the study table. He was care- 
 ful not to wrinkle the coat, for this was Polly's 
 birthday gift. Jim and he had planned to have 
 sandwiches and soda pop on the top of the big 
 wagon when they offered their treasures to- 
 night ; but now the wagons would soon be leav- 
 ing and where was Polly? He turned to ask 
 this question as Mandy came down the stairs. 
 
 "Well, if dar ain't anudder one," she cried. 
 
 "Never mind, Mandy," said Douglas, who was 
 just behind her, carrying a small water pitcher, 
 and searching for a bottle of brandy which had 
 been placed in the medicine chest for emergen- 
 cies. 
 
 "You can take these upstairs," he told her, 
 when he had filled the pitcher with water and 
 found the liquor. Mandy looked threateningly 
 at Toby, then reluctantly went on her way. 
 
 Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly. 
 His was the first greeting that Toby had re-
 
 Polly of the Circus 3f 
 
 ceived, and he at last found voice to ask whether 
 Polty was badly hurt. 
 
 "The doctor hasn't told us yet," said Douglas, 
 kindly. 
 
 "I'm her Uncle Toby not her real uncle," the 
 old man explained, "but that's what she calls 
 me. I couldn't come out right away, because 
 I'm on in the concert. Could I see her now, 
 please ?" 
 
 "Here's the doctor," said Douglas, as Hartley 
 came down the stairs, followed by Jim. "Well, 
 doctor, not bad, I hope?" 
 
 "Yes, rather bad," said the doctor, adding 
 quickly, as he saw the suffering in Toby's face, 
 "but don't be alarmed. She's going to get 
 well." 
 
 "How long will it be before we can have her 
 back before she can ride again?" asked Jim 
 gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his brown, 
 worn hat in his hands. 
 
 "Probably sereral months," said the doctor. 
 "No bones are broken, but the ligaments of one 
 ankle are torn, and she received a bad blow on 
 the head. It will be some time before she re- 
 covers consciousness."
 
 38 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "What are we goin' to do, Jim?" asked Toby, 
 helplessly. 
 
 "You needn't worry, we'll take good care of 
 her here," said Douglas, seeing desperation writ- 
 ten on their faces. 
 
 "Here?" They looked at him incredulously. 
 And this was a parson! 
 
 "Where are her parents?" the doctor asked, 
 looking at Jim and Toby. 
 
 "She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me," 
 replied Jim. "We've took care of her ever since 
 she was a baby." 
 
 "Oh, I see," said the doctor. "Well, one of 
 you'd better stay here until she can be moved." 
 
 "That's the trouble; we can't," said Toby, 
 hanging his head. "You see, sir, circus folks is 
 like soldiers. No matter what happens, the show 
 has to go on, and we got to be in our places." 
 
 "Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here," said 
 the doctor. "It is a fortunate thing that Mr. 
 Douglas can manage this. Our town hospital 
 burned down a few months ago, and we've been 
 rather puzzled as to what to do with such cases." 
 He took his leave with a cheery "Good night," 
 and a promise to look in upon the little patient
 
 Polly of the Circus 39 
 
 later. Jim shuffled awkwardly toward the pas- 
 tor. 
 
 "It's mighty good of you to do this," he mum- 
 bled, "but she ain't goin' to be no charity 
 patient. Me and Toby is goin' to look after her 
 keep." 
 
 "Her wants will be very few," Douglas an- 
 swered, kindly. "You needn't trouble much 
 about that." 
 
 "I mean it," said Jim, savagely. He met Doug- 
 las's glance of surprise with a determined look, 
 for he feared that his chance of being useful to 
 Polly might be slipping out of his life. 
 
 "You mustn't mind Jim," the clown pleaded 
 at the pastor's elbow. "You see pain gets some 
 folks different from others ; and it always kinder 
 makes him savage." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right," Douglas answered, 
 quickly. His own life had been so lonely, that 
 he could understand the selfish yearning in the 
 big man's heart. "You must do what you think 
 best about these things ; Mandy and I will look 
 after the rest." 
 
 Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the 
 pastor had seen straight into his heart and dis-
 
 40 Polly of the Circus 
 
 covered his petty weakness. He was about to 
 turn toward the door when it was thrown open 
 by Barker. 
 
 "Where is she?" shouted the manager, looking 
 from one to the other. 
 
 "She can't come," said Jim in a low, steady 
 voice, for he knew the storm of opposition with 
 which Barker would meet the announcement. 
 
 "Can't come?" shrieked Barker. "Of course 
 she'll come. I can't get along without her. She's 
 got to come." He looked at Jim, who remained 
 silent and firm. "Why ain't she comin'?" he 
 asked, feeling himself already defeated. 
 
 "She's hurt bad," was Jim's laconic reply. 
 
 "The devil she is !" said Barker, looking at 
 Douglas for confirmation. "Is that right?" 
 
 "She won't be able to travel for some time," 
 said Douglas. 
 
 "Mr. Barker is our manager," Toby explained, 
 as he edged his way to the pastor's side. 
 
 "Some time !" Barker looked at Douglas as 
 though he were to blame for their misfortune. 
 "Well, you just bet she will," he declared men- 
 acingly. 
 
 "See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like
 
 Polly of the Circus 41 
 
 that," said Jim, facing the manager. "He's 
 darned square even if he is a parson." Barker 
 turned away. He was not a bad-hearted man, 
 but he was irritated and upset at losing the star 
 feature of his bill. 
 
 "Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?" he muttered 
 to himself, as his eye again travelled to the boss 
 canvas-man. "You get out a' here, Jim," he 
 shouted, "an' start them wagons. The show's 
 got to go on, Poll or no Poll." 
 
 He turned with his hand on the door-knob and 
 jerked out a grudging thanks to the pastor. 
 "It's all fired good of you to take her in," he 
 said, "but it's tough to lose her. Good night !" 
 He banged the door and clattered down the 
 steps. 
 
 Jim waited. He was trying to find words in 
 which to tell his gratitude. None came ; and he 
 turned to go with a short "good-bye!" 
 
 "Good night, Jim," said the pastor. He 
 crossed the room and took the big fellow's 
 hand. 
 
 "Much obliged," Jim answered gruffly. It was 
 his only polite phrase, and he had taught Polly 
 to say it. Douglas waited until Jim had passed
 
 42 Polly of the Circus 
 
 down the steps, then turned to Toby, who still 
 lingered near the table. 
 
 "You'll tell her how it was me and Jim had to 
 leave her without sayin' 'good-bye,' won't you, 
 sir?" Toby pleaded. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Douglas promised. 
 
 "I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her 
 satchel." He picked up the little brown 
 bag that was to have been Polly's birthday 
 gift. "Me an' Jim will be sendin' her more 
 soon." 
 
 "You're going to miss her, I'm afraid," Doug- 
 las said, feeling an irresistible desire to gain the 
 old man's confidence. 
 
 "Lord bless you, yes, sir," Toby answered, 
 turning upon him eagerly. "Me an' Jim has 
 been father an' mother and Jos' about everythin' 
 to that little one. She wan't much bigger'n a 
 handful of peanuts when we begun a-worryin' 
 about her." 
 
 "Well, Mandy will do the worrying now," 
 Douglas laughed. "She's been d}dng for a 
 chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she 
 even tried it on me." 
 
 "I noticed as how some of those church people
 
 Polly of the Circus 43 
 
 seemed to look kinder queer at me," said Toby, 
 "and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe they might feel 
 the same about her." 
 
 "Oh, they're all right," Douglas assured him ; 
 "they'll be her friends in no time." 
 
 "She's fit for 'em, sir," Toby pleaded. "She's 
 good, clean into the middle of her heart." 
 
 "I'm sure of it," Douglas answered. 
 
 "I've heard how some church folks feels to- 
 wards us circus people, sir, and I jes' wanted 
 ye to know that there ain't finer families, or bet- 
 ter mothers or fathers or grandfathers or grand- 
 mothers anywhere than we got among us. Why, 
 that girl's mother rode the horses afore her, and 
 her mother afore that, and her grandmother and 
 grandfather afore that, an' there ain't nobody 
 what's cared more for their good name and their 
 children's good name an' her people has. You 
 see, sir, circus folks is all like that; they's jes' 
 like one big family ; they tends to their business 
 and takes good care o' theirselves they has to 
 or they couldn't do their work. It's 'cause 
 I'm leavin' her with you that I'm sayin' all this," 
 the old man apologised. 
 
 "I'm glad you told me, Toby," Douglas an-
 
 44 Polly of the Circus 
 
 swered, kindly. "I've never known much about 
 circus folks." 
 
 "I guess I'd better be goin'," Toby faltered, as 
 his eyes roved hungrily toward the stairway. 
 
 "I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be 
 lettin' us know how she is." 
 
 "Indeed I will," Douglas assured him, heartily. 
 
 "You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so," 
 he added. 
 
 "I'll tell her," Douglas promised earnestly. 
 
 "Good night !" The old man hesitated, unwill- 
 ing to go, but unable to find further pretext for 
 staying. 
 
 "Good night, Toby." Douglas extended his 
 hand toward the bent figure that was about to 
 shuffle past him. The withered hand of the 
 white-faced clown rested in the strong grasp of 
 the pastor, and his pale, little eyes sought the 
 face of the stalwart man before him; a numb 
 desolation was growing in his heart; the object 
 for which he had gone on day by day was being 
 left behind and he must stumble forth into the 
 night alone. 
 
 "It's hard to leave her," he mumbled; "but 
 the show has got to go on."
 
 Polly of the Circus 45 
 
 The door shut out the bent, old figure. Douglas 
 stood for some time where Toby had left him, 
 still thinking of his prophetic words. His rev- 
 ; ery was broken by the sounds of the departing 
 wagons, the low muttered curses of the drivers, 
 the shrieking and roaring of the animals, as the 
 circus train moved up the distant hill. "The 
 show has got to go on," he repeated as he crossed 
 to his studj table and seated himself for work in 
 the dim light of the old-fashioned lamp. He put 
 out one hand to draw the sheets of his interrupted 
 sermon toward him, but instead it fell upon a 
 small sailor hat. He twisted the hat absently 
 in his fingers, not yet realising the new order 
 of things that was coming into his life. Mandy 
 tiptoed softly down the stairs. She placed one 
 pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her 
 large eyes skyward. "Dat sure am an angel 
 chile straight from Hebben," she whispered. 
 "She done got a face jes' like a little flower." 
 
 "Straight from heaven," Douglas repeated, as 
 she crossed softly to the table and picked up the 
 satchel and coat. 
 
 "You can leave the lamp, Mandy I must finish 
 to-morrow's sermon."
 
 46 Polly of the Circus 
 
 She turned at the threshold and shook her head 
 rather sadly as she saw the imprint of the day's 
 cares on the young pastor's face. 
 
 "Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired," she said. 
 
 "No, no ; not at all. Good night, Mandy !" 
 
 She closed the door behind her, and Douglas 
 was alone. He gazed absently at the pages of 
 his unfinished sermon as he tapped his idle pen 
 on the desk. "The show has got to go on," he 
 repeated, and far up the hillside with the slow- 
 moving wagons, Jim and Toby looked with un- 
 seeing eyes into the dim, star-lit distance, and 
 echoed the thought: "The show has got to go
 
 Chapter V 
 
 I THE church bells were ringing their first warn- 
 ing for the morning service when Mandy peeped 
 into the spare bedroom for the second time, and 
 glanced cautiously at the wisp of hair that be- 
 spoke a feminine head somewhere between the 
 covers and the little white pillow on the four- 
 poster bed. There was no sound from the 
 sleeper, so Mandy ventured across the room on 
 tiptoe and raised the shades. The drooping 
 boughs of Autumn foliage lay shimmering 
 against the window panes, and through them 
 might be seen the grey outline of the church. 
 Mandy glanced again toward the bed to make 
 sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened 
 the invalid, then crossed to a small, rickety chair, 
 laden with the discarded finery of the little cir- 
 cus rider. 
 
 "Lawdy sakes !" she cried, holding up a span- 
 gled dress, admiringly. "Ain't dat beautiful!" 
 She drew near the mirror, attempting to see the 
 reflection of the tinsel and chiffon against her
 
 48 Polly of the Circus 
 
 very ample background of gingham and avoir- 
 dupois. "You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat 
 on, Honey," she chuckled to herself. "Wouldn't 
 dem deacons holler if dey done see dat?" 
 
 The picture of the deacons' astonishment at 
 such a spectacle so grew upon Mandy, that she 
 was obliged to cover her generous mouth to shut 
 in her convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the lit- 
 tle girl in the bed. She crossed to the old-fash- 
 ioned bureau which for many months had stood 
 unused against the wall. The drawer creaked 
 as she opened it to lay away the gay, spangled 
 gown. 
 
 "It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on 
 dem tings agin," she said, with a doubtful shake 
 of her large, round head. 
 
 Then she went back to the chair and picked up 
 Polly's sandals, and examined the bead-work 
 with a great deal of interest. "Lawdy, lawdy !" 
 she cried, as she compared the size of the san- 
 dals to that of her own rough, worn shoes. She 
 was again upon the point of exploding with 
 laughter, as the church bell added a few, final 
 and more emphatic clangs to its warning. 
 
 She turned with a start, motioning a vain warn-
 
 Polly of the Circus 49 
 
 ing out of the window for the bell to be silent, 
 but the little sleeper was already stirring un- 
 easily on her pillow. One soft arm was thrown 
 languidly over her head. The large, blue eyes 
 opened and closed dreamily as she murmured the 
 words of the clown song that Jim and Toby had 
 taught her years ago: 
 "Ting ling, 
 That's what the bells sing " 
 
 Handy readied the side of the bed as the girl's 
 eyes opened a second time and met hers with a 
 blank stare of astonishment. A tiny frown came 
 into the small, white forehead. 
 
 "What's the matter?" she asked faintly, try- 
 ing to find something familiar in the black face 
 before her. 
 
 "Hush, child, hush," Mandy whispered; "jes' 
 you lie puffickly still. Dat's only de furs' bell 
 a-ringin'." 
 
 "First bell?" the girl repeated, as her eyes trav- 
 elled quickly about the strange walls and the 
 unfamiliar fittings of the room. "This ain't the 
 show!" she cried, suddenly. 
 
 "Lor' bless you, no ; dis ain't no show," Mandy 
 answered ; and she laughed reassuringly.
 
 50 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Then where am I?" Polly asked, half breath- 
 less with bewilderment. 
 
 "Nebber you mind 'bout dat," was Mandy's 
 unsatisfactory reply. 
 
 "But I do mind," protested Polly, trying to 
 raise herself to a sitting position. "Where's the 
 bunch?" 
 
 "De wat?" asked Mandy in surprise. 
 
 "The bunch Jim and Toby and the rest of 
 the push !" 
 
 "Lor' bless you !" Mandy exclaimed. 
 "Dey's done gone 'long wid de circus, hours 
 ago." 
 
 "Gone ! Show gone !" Polly cried in amaze- 
 ment. "Then what am I doing here?" 
 
 "Hole on dar, honey! hole on!" Mandy cau- 
 tioned. "Don't you 'cite yo'se'f ." 
 
 "Let me alone!" Polly put aside the arm that 
 was trying to place a shawl around her. "I got 
 to get out a-here." 
 
 "You'se got plenty o' time for dat," Mandy 
 answered. "Jes' yo' wait awhile." 
 
 "I can't wait, and I won't !" Polly shrieked, al- 
 most beside herself with anxiety. "I got to get 
 to the next burg Wakefield, ain't it? What
 
 Polly of the Circus 51 
 
 time is it ? Let me alone ! Let me go !" she cried, 
 struggling desperately. 
 
 The door opened softly and the young pastor 
 stood looking down at the picture of the frail, 
 white-faced child, and her black, determined cap- 
 tor. 
 
 "Here, here! What's all this about?" he 
 asked, in a firm tone, though evidently amused. 
 
 "Who are you?" returned the girl, as she 
 shoved herself quickly back against the pillows 
 and drew the covers close under her chin, look- 
 ing at him oddly over their top. 
 
 "She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful," 
 Mandy explained, as she tried to regain enough 
 breath for a new encounter. 
 
 "Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly," 
 he said, with mock seriousness. 
 
 "How do you know I'm Polly?" the little rebel 
 asked, her eyes gleaming large and desperate 
 above the friendly covers. 
 
 "If you will be very good and keep very quiet, 
 I will try to tell you," he said, as he crossed to 
 the bed. 
 
 "I won't be quiet, not for nobody," Polly ob- 
 jected, with a bold disregard of double nega-
 
 52 Polly of the Circus 
 
 tives. "I got to get a move. If you ain't goin' 
 to help me, you needn't butt in." 
 
 "I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet," 
 Douglas replied. He was beginning to perceive 
 that there were tasks before him other than the 
 shaping of Polly's character. 
 
 "What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?" 
 she asked, as she shot a glance of suspicion from 
 the pastor to Mandy . "What am I up against ?" 
 
 "Don't yuh be scared, honey," Mandy reas- 
 sured her. "You's jes' as safe here as you done 
 been in de circus." 
 
 "Safer, we hope," Douglas added, with a smile. 
 
 "Are you two bug?" Polly questioned, as she 
 turned her head from one side to the other and 
 studied them with a new idea. "Well, you can't 
 get none the best of me. I can get away all 
 right, and I will, too." 
 
 She made a desperate effort to put one foot to 
 the floor, but fell back with a cry of pain. 
 
 "Dar, dar," Mandy murmured, putting the 
 pillow under the poor, cramped neck, and 
 smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's fore- 
 head. "Yuh done hurt yo'sef for suah dis time." 
 
 The pastor had taken a step toward the bed.
 
 Polly of the Circus 53 
 
 His look of amusement had changed to one of 
 pity. 
 
 "You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad 
 fall, and you can't get away just yet, nor see 
 your friends until you are better." 
 
 "It's only a scratch," Polly whimpered. "I can 
 do my work; I got to." One more feeble effort 
 and she succumbed, with a faint "Jimminy 
 Crickets !" 
 
 "Uncle Toby told me that you were a very 
 good little girl," Douglas said, as he drew up a 
 chair and sat down by her side, confident by the 
 expression on her face that at last he was mas- 
 ter of the situation. "Do you think he would 
 like you to behave like this?" 
 
 "I sure am on the blink," she sighed, as she set- 
 tled back wearily upon the pillow. 
 
 "You'll be all right soon," Douglas answered, 
 cheerily. "Mandy and I will help the time to 
 go." 
 
 "I recollect now," Polly faltered, without hear- 
 ing him. "It was the last hoop. Jim seemed to 
 have a hunch I was goin' to be in for trouble 
 when I went into the ring. Bingo must a felt 
 it, too. He kept a-pullin' and a-jerkin' from the
 
 54 Polly of the Circus 
 
 start. I got myself together to make the last 
 jump an'- I can't remember no more." Her 
 head drooped and her eyes closed. 
 
 "I wouldn't try just now if I were you," Doug- 
 las answered tenderly. 
 
 "It's my wheel, ain't it?" Polly questioned, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Yoah what, chile?" Mandy exclaimed, as she 
 turned from the table, where she had been rolling 
 up the unused bandages left from the doctor's 
 call the night before. 
 
 "I say it's my creeper, my paddle," Polly ex- 
 plained, trying to locate a few of her many 
 pains. "Gee, but that hurts!" She tried to 
 bend her ankle. "Is it punctured?" 
 
 "Only sprained," Douglas answered, striving to 
 control his amusement at the expression on 
 Mandy's puzzled face. "Better not talk any 
 more about it." 
 
 "Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is 
 there?" she asked, turning her head to one side 
 and studying him quizzically. 
 
 "I don't think there is," he replied good-na- 
 turedly. 
 
 "How did I come to fall in here, anyhow ?" she
 
 Polly of the Circus 55 
 
 asked, as she studied the walls of the unfamiliar 
 room. 
 
 "We brought you here." 
 
 "It's a swell place," she conceded grudg- 
 ingly. 
 
 "We are comfortable," he admitted, as a tell- 
 tale smile again hovered about his lips. He was 
 thinking of the changes that he must presently 
 make in Miss Polly's vocabulary. 
 
 "Is this the 'big top?' she asked. 
 
 "The what?" he stammered. 
 
 "The main tent," she explained. 
 
 "Well, no ; not exactly. It's going to be your 
 room now, Miss Polly." 
 
 "My room ! Gee ! Think a' that !" she gasped, 
 as the possibility of her actually having a room 
 all of her own took hold of her mind. "Much 
 obliged," she said with a nod, feeling that some- 
 thing was expected of her. She knew no other 
 phrase of gratitude than the one "Muvver" Jim 
 and Toby had taught her to say to the manager 
 when she received from him the first stick of red 
 and white striped candy. 
 
 "You're very welcome," Douglas answered with 
 a ring of genuine feeling in his voice.
 
 56 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Awful quiet, ain't it?" she ventured, after a 
 pause. "Guess that's what woke me up." 
 
 Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the 
 thought of quiet as a disturber, and added that 
 he feared it might at first be rather dull for her, 
 but that Jim and Toby would send her news of 
 the circus, and that she could write to them as 
 soon as she was better. 
 
 "I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 
 'fore I can write much," Polly drawled, with a 
 whimsical little smile. 
 
 "I will write for you," the pastor volunteered, 
 understanding her plight. 
 
 "You will?" For the first time he saw a show 
 of real pleasure in her eyes. 
 
 "Every day," Douglas promised solemnly. 
 
 "And you will show me how?" 
 
 "Indeed I will." 
 
 "How long am I in for?" she asked. 
 
 "The doctor can tell better about that when he 
 comes." 
 
 "The doctor! So it's as bad as that, eh?" 
 
 "Oh, that need not frighten you," Douglas 
 answered consolingly. 
 
 "I ain't frightened," she bridled quickly; "I
 
 Polly of the Circus 57 
 
 ain't never scared of nothin.' It's only 
 'cause they need me in the show that I'm 
 a-kickinV 
 
 "Oh, they will get along all right," he said re- 
 assuringly. 
 
 "Get along?" Polly flashed with sudden resent- 
 ment. "Get along without my act!" It was ap- 
 parent from her look of astonishment that 
 Douglas had completely lost whatever ground 
 he had heretofore gained in her respect. : 'Say, 
 have you seen that show?" She waited for his. 
 answer with pity and contempt. 
 
 "No," admitted John, weakly. 
 
 "Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't 
 make no crack like that. I'm the whole thing 
 in that push," she said with an air of self-com- 
 placency ; "and with me down and out, that show 
 will be on the bum for fair." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," was all Douglas could 
 say, confused by the sudden rolley of unfamiliar 
 words. 
 
 "You're kiddin' me," she said, turning her head 
 to one side as was her wont when assailed by sus- 
 picion ; "you must a seen me ride?" 
 
 "No, Miss Pollj, I have never seen a circus,"
 
 58 Polly of the Circus 
 
 Douglas told her half-regretfully, a sense of his 
 deep privation stealing upon him. 
 
 "What!" cried Polly, incredulously. 
 
 "Lordy no, chile ; he ain't nebber seed none ob 
 dem tings," Mandy interrupted, as she tried to 
 arrange a few short-stemmed posies in a varie- 
 gated bouquet. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that!" Polly 
 gasped. "You're the first rube I ever saw that 
 hadn't." She was looking at him as though he 
 were a curiosity. 
 
 "So I'm a rube !" Douglas shook his head with 
 a sad, little smile and good-naturedly agreed 
 that he had sometimes feared as much. 
 
 "That's what we always calls a guy like you," 
 she explained ingenuously, and added hopefully : 
 "Well, you must a' seen our parade all the 
 pikers see that it don't cost nothinV 
 
 "I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the 
 charge of being a piker," Douglas admitted 
 half-sheepishly, "for I did see the parade." 
 
 "Well, I was the one on the white horse right 
 behind the lion cage," she began excitedly. "You 
 remember?" 
 
 "It's a little confused in my mind " he caught
 
 Polly of the Circus 59 
 
 her look of amazement, "just at present," he 
 stammered, feeling her wrath again about to 
 descend upon him. 
 
 "Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand," she 
 explained. 
 
 "Sheet!" Mandy shrieked from her corner. 
 
 "Yes the billboards the pictures," Polly 
 said, growing impatient at their persistent stu- 
 pidity. 
 
 "She sure am a funny talkin' thing !" mumbled 
 Mandy to herself, as she clipped the withered 
 leaves from a plant near the window. 
 
 "You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' 
 on?" Polly asked with a lingering suspicion in 
 her voice. 
 
 "Dead sure" ; and Douglas smiled to himself as 
 he lapsed into her vernacular. 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Polly realised 
 for the first time that she must actually read- 
 just herself to a new order of things. Her eyes 
 again roved about the room. It was a cheerful 
 place in which to be imprisoned even Polly 
 could not deny that. The broad window at the 
 back with its white and pink chintz curtains on 
 the inside, and its frame of ivy on the outside,
 
 60 Polly of the Circus 
 
 spoke of singing birds and sunshine all day 
 long. Everything from the white ceiling to 
 the sweet-smelling matting that covered the 
 floor was spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed 
 rocker near the curved window-seat with its 
 pretty pillows told of days when a convalescent 
 might look in comfort at the garden beneath; 
 the counterpane, with its old-fashioned rose 
 pattern, the little white tidies on the back of 
 each chair, and Mandy crooning beside 
 the window, all helped to make a homelike 
 picture. 
 
 She wondered what Jim and Toby would 
 say if they could see her now, sitting like a 
 queen in the midst of her soft coverlets, with 
 no need to raise even a finger to wait upon 
 herself. 
 
 "Ain't it the limit?" she sighed, and with that 
 Jim and Toby seemed to drift farther away. 
 She began to see their life apart from hers. She 
 could picture Jim with his head in his hands. 
 She could hear his sharp orders to the men. He 
 was always short with the others when anything 
 went wrong with her. 
 
 "I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps," she
 
 Polly of the Circus 61 
 
 murmured, as a cloud stole across the flower-like 
 face ; then the tired muscles relaxed, and she 
 ceased to rebel. 
 
 "Muvver Jim"? Douglas repeated, feeling that 
 he must recall her to a knowledge of his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 "That's what I calls him," Polly explained, 
 "but the fellows calls him 'Big Jim.' You might 
 not think Jim could be a good mother just to 
 look at him, but he is ; only, sometimes, you can't 
 tell him things you could a real mother," she 
 added, half sadly. 
 
 "And your real mother went away when you 
 were very young?" 
 
 "No, she did n't go away ; 
 
 "No?" There was a puzzled note in the pas- 
 tor's voice. 
 
 "She went out," Polly corrected. 
 
 "Out !" he echoed blankly. 
 
 "Yes finished Lights out." 
 
 "Oh, an accident." Douglas understood at 
 last. 
 
 "I don't like to talk about it." Polly raised 
 herself on her elbow and looked at him solemnly, 
 as though about to impart a bit of forbidden
 
 62 Polly of the Circus 
 
 family history. It was this look in the round 
 eyes that had made Jim so often declare that the 
 kid knew everything. 
 
 "Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a 
 knowed how she wound up. She was the best 
 rider of her time, everybody says so, but she 
 cashed in by fallin' off a skate what didn't have 
 no more ginger 'an a kitten. If you can beat 
 that?" She gazed at him with her lips pressed 
 tightly together, evidently expecting some 
 startling expression of wonder. 
 
 "And your father?" Douglas asked rather 
 lamely, being at a loss for any ade- 
 quate comment upon a tragedy which the child 
 before him was too desolate even to under- 
 stand. 
 
 "Oh, dad's finish was all right. He got his'n 
 in a lion's cage where he worked. There was 
 nothing slow about his end." She looked up for 
 his approval. 
 
 "For de Lord's sake!" Mandy groaned as the 
 wonder of the child's conversation grew upon 
 her. 
 
 "And now I'm down and out," Polly concluded 
 witfc 1 a, sigh.
 
 Polly of the Circus 68 
 
 "But this is nothing serious," said the yastor, 
 trying to cheer her. 
 
 "It's serious enough, with a whole shuw a-de- 
 pendin' on you. Maybe you don't knry how it 
 feels to have to knock off work." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do," Douglas answered quickly. 
 "I was ill a while ago myself. I had to be in 
 bed day after day, thinking of dozens of things 
 that I ought to be doing." 
 
 "Was you ever floored?" Polly aoked with 
 a touch of unbelief as she studied the fine, 
 healthy physique at the side of her b^d. 
 
 " 'Deed he was, chile," Mandy cried, feeling 
 that her opportunity had now arrived; "an' I 
 had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. He act 
 jes' like you did." 
 
 "Did he?" Polly was delighted to !md that the 
 pastor had "nothin' on her," as she would have 
 put it. 
 
 "You ought to have heard him,* 9 continued 
 Mandy, made eloquent by Polly's shew of inter- 
 est. " 'What will dose poor folks do?' he kept 
 a-sayin'. 'Jes' yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him. 
 'Dem poor folks will be better off dan *ky would 
 be a-comin' to yoah funeral.' '
 
 64 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Poor folks ?" Polly questioned. "Do you give 
 money to folks?" We are always itchin' to get 
 it away from 'em." 
 
 Before Douglas could think of words with 
 which to defend his disapproved methods, Mandy 
 had continued eagerly: 
 
 "An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to 
 church and preach She got no further. A 
 sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and 
 Douglas to attention. 
 
 "Preach !" Folly almost shouted. She looked 
 at him with genuine alarm this time". 
 
 "That will do, Mandy," Douglas commanded, 
 feeling an unwelcome drama gathering about his 
 head. 
 
 "Great Barnum and Bailey !" Polly exclaimed, 
 looking at him as though he were the very last 
 thing in the world she had ever expected to see. 
 "Are you a skypilot ?'* 
 
 "That's what he am, chile." Mandy slipped 
 the words in slyly, for she knew that they were 
 against the pastor's wishes, but she was unable 
 to restrain her mischievous impulse to sow the 
 seeds of curiosity that would soon bear fruit in 
 the inquisitive mind of the little invalid.
 
 Polly of the Circus 65 
 
 "Will you get onto me a-landin' into a iuix-up 
 like this ?" She continued to study the uncomfort- 
 able man at her side. "I never thought I'd be 
 a-talkin' to one of you guys. What's your name?" 
 
 "Douglas." He spoke shortly. 
 
 "Ain't you got no handle to it?" 
 
 "If you mean my Christian name, it's John." 
 
 "Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. 
 But you don't look like I s'posd they did." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I always s'posed skypilots was old and 
 grouchy-like. You're a'most as good lookin' as 
 our strong man." 
 
 "I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be 
 an unmarried parson," Mandy chuckled, more 
 and more amused at the pastor's discomfort. 
 
 "Looks don't play a very important part in 
 my work," Douglas answered curtly. Mandy's 
 confidential snickers made him doubly anxious 
 to get to a less personal topic. 
 
 "Well, they count for a whole lot with us." 
 She nodded her head decidedly. "How long you 
 been showin' in this town, anyhow?" 
 
 "About a year," Douglas answered, with some- 
 thing of a sigh*
 
 66 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "A year!" she gasped. "In a burg like this? 
 You must have an awful lot of laughs in 
 your act to keep 'em a-comin* that long." 
 She was wise in the ways of professional 
 success. 
 
 "Not many, I'm afraid." He wondered, for 
 the first time, if this might be the reason for his 
 rather indifferent success. 
 
 "Do you give them the same stuff, or have you 
 got a rep?" 
 
 "A rep?" he repeated in surprise. 
 
 "Sure, repertory different acts entries, some 
 calls 'em. Uncle Toby's got twenty-seven en- 
 tries. It makes a heap of difference in the big 
 towns where you have a run." 
 
 "Oh, I understand," Douglas answered in a 
 tone of relief. "Well, I try to say something 
 new each Sunday." 
 
 "What kind of spiels do you give 'em?" she 
 inquired with growing interest. 
 
 "I try to help my people to get on better terms 
 with themselves and to forget their week-day 
 troubles." He had never had occasion to define 
 his efforts so minutely. 
 
 "Well, that's jes' the same as us," Polly told
 
 Polly of the Circus 67 
 
 him with an air of condescension ; "only circuses 
 draws more people 'an churches." 
 
 "Yours does seem to be a more popular form of 
 entertainment," Douglas answered drily. He 
 was beginning to feel that there were many tricks 
 in the entertainment trade which he had not mas- 
 tered. And, after all, what was his preaching 
 but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to 
 hold his congregation by what he was saying, 
 his listeners grew drowsy, and his sermon fell 
 short of its desired effect. It was true that his 
 position and hers had points of similarity. She 
 was apparently successful; as for himself, he 
 could not be sure. He knew he tried very hard 
 and that sometimes a tired mother or a sad- 
 faced child looked up at him with a smile that 
 made the service seem worth while. 
 
 Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and 
 her tender heart was quick to find consolation 
 for him. 
 
 "You ain't got all the worst of it," she said. 
 "If we tried to play a dump like this for six 
 months, we'd starve to death. You certainly 
 must give 'em a great show," she added, survey- 
 ing him with growing interest.
 
 68 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "It doesn't make much difference about the 
 show " Douglas began, but he was quickly 
 interrupted. 
 
 "That's right, it's jes' the same with a cir- 
 cus. One year ye give 'em the rottenest kind 
 of a thing, and they eat it up ; the next year you 
 hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that 
 the way it is with a church show?" 
 
 "Much the same," Douglas admitted half- 
 amusedly, half -regretfully. "Very often wlien 
 I work, the hardest, I seem to do the least 
 good." 
 
 "I guess our troubles is pretty much alike.'- 
 Polly nodded with a motherly air of condescen- 
 sion. "Only there ain't so much danger in your 
 act." 
 
 "I'm not so sure about that," he laughed. 
 
 "Well, you take my tip," she leaned forward 
 as though about to impart a very valuable bit 
 of information. "Don't you never go in for 
 ridin'. There ain't no act on earth so hard as a 
 ridin' act. The rest of the bunch has got it easy 
 alongside of us. Take the fellows on the 
 trapeze. They always get their tackle up in jes' 
 the same place. Take the balancin' acts ; there
 
 Polly of the Circus 69 
 
 ain't no difference in their layouts. Take any 
 of 'em as depends on regular props ; and they 
 ain't got much chance a-goin' wrong. But say, 
 when yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't 
 never no two times alike. If your horse is feelin' 
 good, the ground is stumbly ; if the ground! 
 ain't on the blink the horse is wobbly. Ther's 
 always somethin' wrong somewheres, and yer 
 ain't never knowin' how it's goin' ter end espe- 
 cially when you got to do a careful act like mine. 
 There's a girl, Eloise, in our bunch, what does 
 a showy act on a horse what Barker calls Bar- 
 barian. She goes on in my place sometimes 
 and say, them rubes applauds her as much as 
 me, an' her stunts is baby tricks alongside o' 
 mine. It's enough to make you sick o' art." 
 She shook her head dolefully, then sat up with 
 renewed interest. 
 
 "You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, 
 an' you got ter know your horse an' your ground 
 for that. Now you get wise ter what I'm a-tellin' 
 yer, and don't you never go into anythin' what 
 depends on any thin' else." 
 
 "Thank you, Polly, I won't." Douglas some- 
 how felt that he was very much indebted to her.
 
 70 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "I seen a church show once," Polly said sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "You did?" Douglas asked, with new interest. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, closing her lips and ven- 
 turing no further comment. 
 
 "Did you like it?" he questioned, after a pause. 
 
 "Couldn't make nothin' out of it I don't care 
 much for readin'." 
 
 "Oh, it isn't all reading," he corrected. 
 
 "Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He 
 got the whole thing right out of a book." 
 
 "Oh, that was only his text," laughed Douglas. 
 
 "Text?" 
 
 "Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his 
 congrega " 
 
 "Easy ! Easy !" she interrupted ; "come again 
 with that, will you ?" 
 
 "He told them the meaning of what he read." 
 
 "Well, I don't know what he told 'em, but it 
 didn't mean anythin' to me. But maybe your 
 show is better'n his was," she added, trying to 
 pacify him. 
 
 Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused 
 or grateful for Polly's ever-increasing sym- 
 pathy. Before he could trust his twitching lips
 
 Polly of the Circus 71 
 
 to answer, she had put another question to 
 him. 
 
 "Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?" 
 
 "I preach every Sunday, if that's what you 
 mean; I preach this morning." 
 
 "Is this Sunday?" she asked, sitting up with 
 renewed energy and looking about the room as 
 though everything had changed colour. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you got a matinee?" she exclaimed, in- 
 credulously. 
 
 "We have services," he corrected, gently. 
 
 "We rest up on Sundays" she said in a tone 
 of deep commiseration. 
 
 "Oh, I see," he answered, feeling it no time 
 to enter upon another discussion as to the 
 comparative advantages of their two pro- 
 fessions. 
 
 "What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?" 
 
 "About Ruth and Naomi." 
 
 "Ruth and who?" 
 
 "Naomi," he repeated. 
 
 "Naomi," she echoed, tilting her head from 
 side to side, as she listened to the soft cadences 
 of the word. "I never heard that name afore.
 
 72 Polly of the Circus 
 
 It 'ud look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't 
 it?" 
 
 "It's a Bible name, honey," Mandy said, eager 
 to get into the conversation. "Dar's a buful 
 picture 'bout her. I seed it." 
 
 "I like to look at pictures," Polly answered 
 tentatively. Mandy crossed the room to fetch 
 the large Bible with its steel engravings. 
 
 "We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of 
 Death' stunt. Some of the folks is kinder down 
 on 'er, but I ain't." 
 
 She might have told Douglas more of her for- 
 lorn, little friend, but just then Mandy came to 
 the bed, hugging a large, old-fashioned Bible, 
 and Douglas helped to place the ponderous book 
 before the invalid. 
 
 "See, honey, dar dey is," the old woman said, 
 pointing to the picture of Ruth and Naomi. 
 
 "Them's cracker jacks, ain't they?" Polly 
 gasped, and her eyes shone with wonder. "Which 
 one s Ruth?" 
 
 "Dis one," said Mandy, pointing with her 
 thumb. 
 
 "Why, they're dressed just like our chariot 
 drivers. What does it say about 'em?"
 
 'Whither thou goest I will go, and where 
 thou lodgest I will lodge.' '
 
 Polly of the Circus 73 
 
 "You can read it for yourself," Douglas an- 
 swered gently. There was something pathetic 
 in the eagerness of the starved little mind. 
 
 "Well, I ain't much on readin' out loud" she 
 faltered, growing suddenly conscious of her de- 
 ficiencies. "Read it for me, will you?" 
 
 "Certainly," and he drew his chair nearer to 
 the bed. One strong hand supported the other 
 half of the Bible, and his head was very near to 
 hers as his deep, full voice pronounced the sol- 
 emn words in which Ruth pleaded so many years 
 before. 
 
 " 'Entreat me not to leave thee,' " he read, " 'or 
 to return from following after thee, for whither 
 thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I 
 will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and 
 thy God my God.' " 
 
 He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the 
 lines. 
 
 "Kind o' pretty, ain't it?" Polly said softly. 
 She felt awkward and constrained and a little 
 overawed. 
 
 "There are far more beautiful things than 
 that," Douglas assured her enthusiastically, as 
 the echo of many such rang in his ears.
 
 74 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "There are?" And her eyes opened wide with 
 wonder. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," he replied, pitying more and 
 more the starvation of mind and longing to 
 bring to it floods of light and enrichment. 
 
 "I guess I'd like to hear you spiel," and she 
 fell to studying him solemnly. 
 
 "You would?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "Is there any more to that story?" she asked, 
 ignoring his question. 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 "Would you read me a little more?" She was 
 very humble now. 
 
 "Where thou diest will I die, and there will I 
 be buried ; the Lord do so to me and more also, 
 if ought but death part me and thee.' ' 
 
 Their eyes met. There was a long pause. Sud- 
 denly the sharp, sweet notes of the church bell 
 brought John Douglas to his feet with a start 
 of surprise. 
 
 "Have you got to go?" Polly asked regret- 
 fully. 
 
 "Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the 
 church. Open the window, Mandy!" And he 
 passed out of the door and quickly down the 
 stairs.
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate 
 his nephew for the ministry, the boy was less en- 
 thusiastic than his mother. He did not remon- 
 strate, however, for it had been the custom of 
 generations for at least one son of each Doug- 
 las family to preach the gospel of Calvinism, 
 and his father's career as an architect and land- 
 scape gardener had not left him much capital. 
 
 Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an 
 artist by the few who understood his talents, but 
 there is small demand for the builder of pic- 
 turesque houses in the little business towns of 
 the Middle West, and at last he passed away, 
 leaving his son only the burden of his financial 
 failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the 
 profession in which his father had fared so 
 badly. The hopeless, defeated look on the de- 
 parted man's face had always haunted the boy, 
 who was artist enough to feel his father's genius 
 intuitively, and human enough to resent the in- 
 justice of his fate.
 
 76 Polly of the Circus 
 
 Douglas's mother had suffered so much because 
 of the impractical efforts of her husband, that 
 she discouraged the early tendencies of the son 
 toward drawing and mathematics and tried to 
 direct his thoughts toward creeds and Bible his- 
 tory. When he went away for his collegiate 
 course, she was less in touch with him ; and he 
 was able to steal time from his athletics to devote 
 to his art. He spent his vacations in a neigh- 
 bouring city before a drawing board in the 
 office of a distinguished architect, his father's 
 friend. 
 
 Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, 
 and he was relieved when at last he received his 
 degree in theology and found himself appointed 
 to a small church in the Middle West. 
 
 His step was very bright the morning he first 
 went up the path that led to his new home. His 
 artistic sense was charmed by the picturesque 
 approach to the church and parsonage. The 
 view toward the tree-encircled spire was unob- 
 structed, for the church had been built on the 
 outskirts of the town to allow for a growth that 
 had not materialised. He threw up his head and 
 gazed at the blue hills, with their background of
 
 PoUy of the Circus 77 
 
 soft, slow-moving clouds. The smell of the fresh 
 earth, the bursting of the buds, the forming of 
 new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was 
 very near to pain. 
 
 He stopped half way up the path and consid- 
 ered the advantages of a new front to the nar- 
 row-eaved cottage, and when his foot touched 
 the first step of the vine-covered porch, he was 
 far more concerned about a new portico than 
 with any thought of his first sermon. 
 
 His speculations were abruptly cut short by 
 Mandy, who bustled out of the door with a wide 
 smile of welcome on her black face, and an un- 
 mistakable ambition to take him immediately 
 under her motherly wing. She was much con- 
 cerned because the church people had not met 
 the new pastor at the station and brought him 
 to the house. Upon learning that Douglas had 
 purposely avoided their escort, preferring to 
 come to his new home the first time alone, she 
 ; made up her mind that she was going to like 
 him. 
 
 Mandy had long been a fixture in the parson- 
 age. She and her worse half, Hasty Jones, had 
 come to know and discuss the weaknesses of the
 
 78 Polly of the Circus 
 
 many clergymen who had come and gone, the dea- 
 cons, and the congregation, both individually 
 and collectively. She confided to Hasty, that 
 she "didn't blame de new parson fer not wantin' 
 to mix up wid dat ar crowd." 
 
 In the study that night, when she and Hastj 
 helped Douglas to unpack his many boxes of 
 books, they were as eager as children about the 
 drawings and pictures which he showed them. 
 His mind had gone beyond the parsonage front 
 now, and he described to them the advantage 
 of adding an extra ten feet to the church 
 spire. 
 
 Mandj felt herself almost an artist when she 
 and Hasty bade the pastor good night, for she 
 was still quivering from the contagion of Doug- 
 las's enthusiasm. Here, at last, was a master 
 who could do something besides find fault with 
 her. 
 
 "I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat 
 Mars Douglas and dat ere Deacon Strong 
 clinches," she said to Hasty as they locked the 
 doors and turned out the hall light. "Did yuh 
 done see his jaw?" she whispered. "He look 
 laughin* enough now, but jes' yuh wait till he
 
 Polly of the Circus 79 
 
 done set dat 'ere jaw a his'n and dar ain't nobody 
 what's goin' ter unsot it." 
 
 "Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin'," 
 said Hasty, hoping for Mandy's assurance to 
 the contrary. 
 
 "What?" shrieked Mandy. "Wid dat 'ere 
 sneakin' Widow Willoughby already a-tellin' de 
 deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' 
 proper ?" 
 
 "Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere 
 widow?" asked Hasty, already enjoying the ex- 
 plosion which he knew his defence of the widow 
 was sure to excite. 
 
 "I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 
 'bout her clean floors," answered Mandy, shortly. 
 She turned out the last light, and tiptoed up- 
 stairs, trying not to disturb the pastor. 
 
 John Douglas was busy already with pencil and 
 paper, making notes of the plans for the church 
 and parsonage, which he would perfect later on. 
 Alas, for Douglas's day dreams ! It was not 
 many weeks before he understood with a heavy 
 heart that the deacons were far too dull and un- 
 inspired to share his faith in beauty as an aid 
 to man's spiritual uplift.
 
 80 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "We think we've done pretty well by this 
 church," said Deacon Strong, who was the busi- 
 ness head, the political boss, and the moral men- 
 tor of the small town's affairs. "Just you worry 
 along with the preachin', young man, and we'll 
 attend to the buyin' and buildin' operations." 
 
 Douglas's mind was too active to content itself 
 wholly with the writing of sermons and the 
 routine of formal, pastoral calls. He was a keen 
 humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be 
 interested in the heart stories and disappoint- 
 ments of many of the village unfortunates, some 
 of whom were outside his congregation. The 
 mentally sick, the despondent, who needed words 
 of hope and courage more than dry talks on the- 
 ology, found in him an ever ready friend and 
 adviser, and these came to love and depend on 
 him. But he was never popular with the creed- 
 bound element of the church. 
 
 Mandy had her wish about being on the spot 
 the first time that the parson's jaw squared itself 
 at Deacon Strong. The deacon had called at 
 the parsonage to demand that Douglas put a 
 stop to the boys playing baseball in the adjoin- 
 ing lot on Sunday. Douglas had been unable to
 
 Polly of the Circus 81 
 
 see the deacon's point of view. He declared that 
 baseball was a healthy and harmless form of ex- 
 ercise, that the air was meant to be breathed, 
 and that the boys who enj oyed the game on Sun- 
 day were principally those who were kept indoors 
 by work on other days. The close of the inter- 
 view was unsatisfactory both to Douglas and 
 the deacon. 
 
 "Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up 
 an' down de back," Mandy said later, when she 
 described their talk to Hasty. "Dat 'ere deacon 
 don' know nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson." 
 She tossed her head with a feeling of superiority. 
 She knew the way. Make him forget himself 
 with a laugh. Excite his sympathy with some 
 village underdog.
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 MANDT had secretly enjoyed the commotion 
 caused by the little circus-rider being left in the 
 parsonage, at first, because of her inborn love of 
 mischief, and later, because Polly had become 
 second in her heart only to the pastor. She went 
 about her work, crooning softly during the days 
 of Polly's convalescence. The deep, steady voice 
 of the pastor reading aloud in the pretty win- 
 dow overhead was company. She would often 
 climb the stairs to tell them some bit of village 
 gossip, and leave them laughing at a quaint com- 
 ment about some inquisitive sister of the church, 
 who had happened to incur her displeasure. 
 
 As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly 
 down to the sun-lit garden beneath the window ; 
 and Mandy fluttered about arranging the cush- 
 ions with motherly solicitude. 
 
 More days slipped by, and Polly began to 
 creep through the little, soft-leaved trees at the 
 back of the church, and to look for the deep, 
 blue, sweet-scented violets. When she was able,
 
 Pcliy of the Circus 83 
 
 Douglas took her with him to visit some of the 
 outlying houses of the poor. Her woman's in- 
 stinct was quick to perceive many small needs in 
 their lives that he had overlooked, and to sug- 
 gest simple, inexpensive joys that made them 
 her devoted friends. 
 
 Their evenings were divided between making 
 plans for these unfortunates and reading aloud 
 from the Bible or other books. 
 
 When Polly gained courage, Douglas some- 
 times persuaded her to read to him and the 
 little corrections that he made at these times 
 soon became noticeable in her manner of speech. 
 She was so eager, so starved for knowledge, that 
 she drank it as fast as he could give it. It was 
 during their talks about grammar that Mandy 
 generally fell asleep in her rocker, her unfinished 
 sewing still in her lap. 
 
 When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was 
 always shared equally by Mandy and Hasty, 
 Polly and the pastor. But at last a letter came 
 from Jim only, and Douglas, who was asked to 
 read it, faltered and stopped after the first few 
 words. 
 
 "It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any
 
 84 Polly of the Circus 
 
 longer, Poll," the letter began, "we ain't got 
 Toby with us no more. He didn't have no ac- 
 cident, it wasn't that. He just seemed kinder 
 sick and ailin' like, ever since the night we had 
 to leave you behind. I used to get him warm 
 drinks and things, and try to pull 'im through, 
 but he was always a-chillin' and a-achin'. If 
 it wasn't one thing the matter, it was another. 
 I done all I knowed you'd a-wanted me to, an' 
 the rest of the folks was mighty white to him, 
 too. I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he 
 was. He couldn't get no more laughs in the 
 show, so Barker had to put on another man with 
 him. That kinder hurt him too I s'pose an* 
 showed him the way that things was a-goin'. It 
 was just after that, he wrote the parson a-tellin' 
 him to never let you come back. He seemed to 
 a' got an idee in his head that you was happier 
 where you was. He wouldn't let me tell ye 'bout 
 his feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might 
 mebbe make you come back. 'She's diff'runt 
 from us,' he was allus a-sayin'. 'I never 'spected 
 to keep 'er.' ' 
 
 Douglas stopped. Polly was waiting, her face 
 white and drawn. He had not told her of Toby's
 
 Polly of the Circus 85 
 
 letter, because with it had come a request to "say 
 nothin' to the kid." 
 
 He felt that Polly was controlling herself with 
 an effort until he should reach the end of Jim's 
 letter, so he hurried on. 
 
 "The parson's promise didn't get to him none 
 too quick," he read. "That seemed to be what 
 he was waitin' for. He give up the night it 
 come, and I got him a little room in a hotel after 
 the show, and let one of the other fellers get the 
 stuff out o' town, so's I could stay with him up 
 to the finish. It come 'round mornin'. There 
 wasn't much to it he just seemed tired and 
 peaceful like. 'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' 
 he said, meaniu' the parson. 'She knows, she 
 allus knows,' he whispered, meanin' you, Poll, 
 and then he was on his way. He'd already give 
 me what was saved up for you, and I'm sendin' it 
 along with this " A blue money order for two 
 hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from 
 the envelope when Douglas opened it. 
 
 "I got everythin' ready afore I went on the 
 next day, an' I went up and saw the little spot 
 on the hill where they was goin' to stow him. It 
 looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said
 
 86 Polly of the Circus 
 
 she'd put some flowers on to it now and then. It 
 was you what made me think o' that, Poll, 
 'cause it seemed to me what you would a' done; 
 you was always so daffy about flowers, you and 
 him. 
 
 "I guess this letter's too long for me to be 
 a-sayin' much about the show, but the 'Leap- 
 a-Death' girl got hern last week. She wasn't 
 strong enough for the job, nohow. I done what 
 I could for her outside the show, 'cause I knowed 
 how you was always a-feelin' 'bout her. I guess 
 the 'Leap-a-DeathV husband is goin' to jump 
 his job soon, if he gets enough saved up, 'cause 
 him and Barker can't hit it off no more. We got 
 a good deal o' trouble among the animals, too. 
 None o' the snakes is sheddin' like they ought 
 to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot ban- 
 dage around that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too 
 fresh with Trixy's grub the other night, and the 
 new giraffe's got the croup in that seven-foot 
 neck o' his'n. I guess you'll think I got the pip 
 for fair this time, so I'll just get onto myself 
 now and cut this short. I'll be writin' you agin 
 when we hit Morgantown. 
 
 "Your old Muwer Jim."
 
 Polly of the Circus 87 
 
 Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his 
 hand still resting upon it. He looked helplessly 
 at the little, shrunken figure in the opposite 
 chair. Polly had made no sound, but her head 
 had slipped lower and lower and she now sat very 
 quietly with her face in her hands. She had 
 been taught by Toby and Jim never to whimper. 
 
 "What a plucky lot they are," thought Doug- 
 las, as he considered these three lonely souls, 
 each accepting whatever fate brought with no 
 rebellion or even surprise. It was a strange 
 world of stoics in which these children of the 
 amusement arena fought and lost. They came 
 and went like phantoms, with as little conscious- 
 ness of their own best interests as of the great, 
 moving powers of the world about them. They 
 felt no throes of envy, no bitterness. They loved 
 and worked and "went their way." 
 
 For once the pastor was powerless in the pres- 
 ence of grief. Both he and Mandy left the 
 room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to be 
 spared the outburst of tears that a sympathetic 
 word might bring upon her. They allowed her 
 to remain alone for a time, then Mandy entered 
 softly with a tender good night and Douglas fol-
 
 88 Polly of the Circus 
 
 lowed her cheerily as though nothing at all had 
 happened. 
 
 It was many weeks before Polly again became 
 a companion to Douglas and Mandy, but they 
 did not intrude upon her grief. They waited 
 patiently for the time when youth should again 
 assert itself, and bring back their laughing mate 
 to them.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 WHEN Polly understood that Toby was actually 
 gone, it seemed to her that she could never laugh 
 again. She had been too young to realise the 
 inevitableness of death when it came to her 
 mother, and now she could scarcely believe that 
 Toby would never, never come back to her. She 
 felt that she must be able to drag him back, that 
 she could not go on without him. She wanted to 
 tell him how grateful she was for all his care of 
 her. She thought of the thousand little things 
 that she might have done for him. She longed 
 to recall every impatient word to him. His gen- 
 tle reproachful eyes were always haunting her. 
 "You must come back, Tobj !" she cried. "You 
 must !" 
 
 It was only when body and mind had worn 
 themselves out with yearning, that a numbness 
 at last crept over her, and out of this grew a 
 gradual consciousness of things about her and 
 a returning sense of her obligation to others. She 
 tried to answer in her old, smiling way and to
 
 90 Polly of the Circus 
 
 keep her mind upon what they were saying, in- 
 stead of letting it wander away to the past. 
 
 Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the 
 colour creeping back to her cheeks. 
 
 She joined the pastor again in his visits to the 
 poor. The women of the town would often see 
 them passing and would either whisper to each 
 other, shrug their shoulders, or lift their eye- 
 brows with smiling insinuations ; but Polly and 
 the pastor were too much absorbed in each other 
 to take much notice of what was going on about 
 them. 
 
 They had not gone for their walk to-day, be- 
 cause Mandy had needed Polly to help make 
 ready for the social to be held in the Sunday- 
 school-room to-night. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas 
 shut himself up in the study, and she was sure 
 that he was writing ; so when the village children 
 stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's 
 new-made cookies, she used her customary trick 
 to get them away. "Tag you're it !" she cried, 
 and then dashed out the back door, pursued by 
 the laughing, screaming youngsters. Mandy 
 followed the children to the porch and stood look-
 
 Polly of the Circus 91 
 
 ing after them, as the mad, little band scurried 
 about the back yard, darted in and out amongst 
 the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just 
 beyond the church. 
 
 The leaves once more were red and yellow on 
 the trees, but to-day the air was warm, and the 
 children were wearing their summer dresses. 
 Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by 
 comparison with the children about her. She 
 wore a plain, simple gown of white, which Mandy 
 had helped her to make. It had been cut ankle- 
 length, for Polly was now seventeen. Her 
 quaint, old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, 
 and her trick of knotting her heavy, brown hair 
 low on her neck, made her seem older. 
 
 Mandy waited until the children had disap- 
 peared orer the hill, then began bustling about 
 looking for the step-ladder which Hasty had left 
 under the yines of the porch. It had been a busy 
 day at the parsonage. A social always meant 
 perturbation for Mandy. She called sharply to 
 Hasty, as he came down the path which made 
 a short cut to the Tillage: 
 
 "So's you'se back, is you?" she asked, sarcas- 
 tically.
 
 92 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Sure, I'se back," answered Hasty, good- 
 naturedly, as he sank upon an empty box 
 that had held some things for the social, and 
 pretended to wipe the perspiration from his 
 forehead. 
 
 "Massa John done send you to de post office two 
 hours ago," said Mandy, as she took the letters 
 and papers from his hand. "Five minutes is 
 plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job." 
 
 "I done been detained," Hasty drawled. 
 
 "You'se always 'tained when dar's any work 
 a-goin' on," Mandy snapped at him. 
 
 "Whar's Miss Polly?" Hast}' asked, ignoring 
 Mandy's reference to work. 
 
 "Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't 
 want you. Jes' you done fetch that step-ladder 
 into de Sunday-school-room." 
 
 "But I wants her," Hasty insisted. "I'se been 
 on very 'ticular business what she ought to know 
 'bout." 
 
 "Business?" she repeated. "What kind ob busi- 
 ness ?" 
 
 "I got to fix de Sunday-school-room," said 
 Hasty, as he perceived her growing curiosity. 
 
 "You come heah, nigger!" Mandy called, de-
 
 Polly of the Circus 93 
 
 termined that none of the village doings should 
 escape her. "Out wid it !" 
 
 "Well, it's 'bout de circus," Hasty answered, 
 seating himself again on the box. "Dey's 
 showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next month 
 dey's comin' here." 
 
 "Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be 
 wid?" Mandy's eyes grew large with curiosity. 
 
 "De very same," and Hasty nodded mysteri- 
 ously. 
 
 "How you know dat?" Mandy was uncertain 
 whether to believe him. 
 
 " 'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid 
 de name ob de show painted on it. It's de ad- 
 vertisin' one what goes ahead wid all de pictures 
 what dey pastes up." 
 
 "And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?" 
 
 "I done thought Miss Polly might want to 
 know." 
 
 "See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no 
 circus notions into Miss Polly's head. She don* 
 care no more 'bout dem things since her Uncle 
 Toby done die. She done been satisfied right 
 whar she am. Jes' you let her be." 
 
 "I ain't done nothin'," Hasty protested.
 
 94 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Nebber do do nothin'," growled Mandy. "Go 
 long now, and get a-work. Mos' four o'clock 
 and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready yet." 
 
 Hasty picked up the empty box and the step- 
 ladder and went out through the gate. He had 
 barely disappeared when a peal of laughter was 
 heard from the hillside, and before Mandy could 
 get out of the way, the youngsters came tum- 
 bling down the path again. 
 
 "Lawsy, lawsy," she gasped, as Polly cir- 
 cled around her, dodging the children. "You'se 
 cheeks is red as pineys, honey." 
 
 "Tag! you're it!" Polly cried, as she touched 
 the widow's auburn-haired offspring on the 
 sleeve. There was much wailing when Willie 
 passed the tag to little Jennie, the smallest girl 
 in the crowd. 
 
 "I won't play no more," she sobbed ; " 'cause 
 I's always it." 
 
 To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old 
 circus song that the children had learned to love ; 
 and the little ones huddled about her in a circle 
 to hear of the wonderful "Van Amberg" who 
 used to "walk right into the lion's cage and put 
 his head in the lion's mouth." The children were
 
 Polly of the Circus 95 
 
 in a state of nerves that did credit to Polly as an 
 entertainer, when Hasty broke in upon the song. 
 
 "When you get a minute I want ter tell yer 
 somethin'." 
 
 "I have one right now." And turning to the 
 eager mites at her side, Polly told them to run 
 along into the grove, and that she'd come pretty 
 soon to teach them a new game. 
 
 The youngsters went screaming and laughing 
 on their way, and she breathed a sigh of relief 
 as she threw herself down on the rustic seat that 
 encircled the elm tree. 
 
 "What is it, Hasty ?" she asked, suspecting that 
 he was in trouble with Mandy. 
 
 "It's 'bout de circus," Hasty informed her 
 bluntly. 
 
 "The circus?" She rose and crossed to him 
 quickly. 
 
 "It's in Wakefield an' nex' month it's a-comin 5 
 here." 
 
 "Here?" Polly gasped. 
 
 "I thought you'd want ter know," said Hasty, 9, 
 little surprised at her lack of enthusiasm. 
 
 "Yes, of course." She turned away and pre- 
 tended to look at the flowers.
 
 96 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Don* yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat 
 circus," said Hasty, uneasily. He was begin- 
 ning to fear that he had made a mistake; but 
 before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of 
 the house, carrying baskets and food, which 
 Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. 
 She looked at the girl's troubled face and droop- 
 ing shoulders in surprise. 
 
 "What make you look so serious, Honey?" 
 
 "Just thinking," said Polly absently. 
 
 "My ! Don' you look fine in your new dress !" 
 She was anxious to draw the girl out of her 
 reverie. 
 
 "Do you like it?" Polly asked eagerly, 
 forgetting her depression of a moment be- 
 fore. "Do you think Mr. John will like 
 it?" 
 
 "Massa John? Mercy me! He nebber takes 
 no notice ob dem things. I done got a bran', 
 spankin' new allapaca, one time, an* do you 
 think Tie ebber seed it ? Lawsy, no ! We might 
 jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve for all 
 dat man know." Polly looked disappointed. 
 "But udder folks sees," Mandy continued, com- 
 fortingly, "an' you certainly look mighty fine.
 
 Folly of the Circus 97 
 
 Why, you's just as good now as you was afore 
 you got hurted!" 
 
 "Yes, I'm well now and able to work again." 
 There was no enthusiasm in her tone, for Hasty's 
 news had made her realise how unwelcome the old 
 life would be to her. 
 
 "Work! You does work all de time. My 
 stars ! de help you is to Massa John." 
 
 "Do you think so? Do I help him? Do I?" 
 
 "Of course you does. You tells him things to 
 do in Sunday-school what the chillun like, an' 
 you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a 
 lot of things what nobody else could a-learned 
 'im." 
 
 "You mustn't say 'learned him,' " Polly cor- 
 rected; "you must say 'taught him.' You can't 
 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' 
 them." 
 
 "Lordy sakes ! I didn't know dat." She rolled 
 her large eyes at her young instructress, and 
 saw that Polly looked very serious. "She's gwine 
 ter have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells" 
 thought Mandy, and she made ready to protest. 
 
 "See here, ain't you nebber " 
 
 She was interrupted by a quick "Have you 
 never" from Polly.
 
 98 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "It dun make no difference what you say," 
 Mandy snapped, "so long as folks understands 
 you." She always grew restive under these or- 
 deals ; but Polly's firm controlled manner gener- 
 ally conquered. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it does," answered Polly. "I used to 
 think it didn't; but it does. You have to say 
 things in a certain way or folks look down on 
 you." 
 
 "I's satisfied de way I be," declared Mandy, as 
 she plumped herself down on the garden bench 
 and began to fidget with resentment. 
 
 "The way I am," Polly persisted, sweetly. 
 
 "See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' 
 up nights an' keepin de light burnin'?" 
 
 "You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 
 'sitting up.' Hens set " 
 
 "So do I," interrupted Mandy; "I's doin' it 
 now." For a time she preserved an injured 
 silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. "If 
 I had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' 
 time I open my mouth, I'd done been tongue- 
 tied afore I was born." 
 
 "I could teach you in no time," volunteered 
 Polly, eagerly.
 
 Polly of the Circus 99 
 
 "I don't wanb to be teached," protested Mandy, 
 doggedly. "Hast Jones says I's too smart any- 
 how. Men don't like women knowin' too much 
 it skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, 
 and I ain't a-tryin' to get nobody else's," Mandy 
 wound up flatly. 
 
 "But he'd like you all the better," persisted 
 Polly, laughing. 
 
 "I don' want to be liked no better by no nig- 
 ger," snapped Mandy. "I's a busy woman, I 
 is." She made for the house, then curiosity 
 conquered her and she came back to Polly's side. 
 "See here, honey, whose been 1'arnin' you all dem 
 nonsense?" 
 
 "I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all 
 the things he tells me, and at night I write them 
 down and say them over. Do you see this, 
 Mandy?" She took a small red book from her 
 belt and put it into Mandy 's black chubby fists. 
 
 "I see some writin', if dat's what you mean," 
 Mandy answered, helplessly. 
 
 "These are my don'ts," Polly confided, as she 
 pointed enthusiastically to worn pages of finely 
 written notes. 
 
 "You'se what, chile?"
 
 100 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "The things I mustn't do or say." 
 
 "An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for 
 dem tings?" Mandy looked incredulous. 
 
 "I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of 
 me," she said with growing pride. 
 
 "Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up 
 for " 
 
 "Oh, oh ! What did I tell you, Mandy?" Polly 
 pointed reproachfully to the reminder in the lit- 
 tle red book. It was a fortunate thing thai 
 Willie interrupted the lesson at this point, for 
 Mandy's temper was becoming very uncertain. 
 The children had grown weary waiting for Polly, 
 and Willie had been sent to fetch her. Polly 
 offered to help Mandy with the decorations, but 
 Willie won the day, and she was running away 
 hand in hand with him when Douglas came out 
 of the house. 
 
 "Wait a minute !" he called. "My, how fine you 
 look !" He turned Polly about and surveyed the 
 new gown admiringly. 
 
 "He did see it! He did see it!" cried Polly, 
 gleefully. 
 
 "Of course I did. I always notice everything, 
 don't I, Mandy?"
 
 Polly of the Circus 101 
 
 "You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly 
 come," Mandy grunted. 
 
 "Come, Willie!" called the girl, and ran out 
 laughing through the trees. 
 
 "What's this?" Douglas took the small book 
 from Mandy's awkward fingers, and began to 
 read : 'Hens set ' ' : He frowned. 
 
 "Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,' " inter- 
 rupted Mandy, disgustedly. 
 
 "Her 'don'ts'?" 
 
 "She done ben set sit settin' up nights tryin* 
 to learn what you done tole her," stuttered 
 Mandy. 
 
 "Dear little Polly," he murmured, then closed 
 the book and put it into his pocket.
 
 Chapter IX 
 
 DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the 
 Widow Willoughby came through the wicker 
 gate to the left of the parsonage, carrying bun 
 ting- for the social. She was followed by Miss 
 Perkins with a bucket of pickles, which Mandy 
 promptly placed on top of Mrs. Elverson's ice 
 cream. The women explained that they had 
 come to put the finishing touches to the decora- 
 tions. If anything was needed to increase 
 Mandy's dislike of the widow, it was this an- 
 nouncement. 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because 
 her children had not been home since the after- 
 noon school session. Upon learning that they 
 were with Polly, she plainly showed her dis- 
 pleasure ; and Douglas dispatched Mandy for 
 them. She saw that her implied distrust of Polly 
 had annoyed him, and she was about to apol- 
 ogise, when two of the deacons arrived on the 
 scene, also carrying baskets and parcels for the 
 social.
 
 Polly of the Circus 103 
 
 Strong led the way. He always led the way 
 and always told Elverson what to think. They 
 had been talking excitedly as they neared the 
 parsonage, for Strong disapproved of the recent 
 changes which the pastor had made in the church 
 service. He and Douglas had clashed more than 
 once since the baseball argument, and the dea- 
 con had realised more and more that he had met 
 a will quite as strong as his own. His failure to 
 bend the parson to his way of thinking was mak- 
 ing him irritable, and taking his mind from his 
 business. 
 
 "Can you beat that!" he would exclaim as he 
 turned away from some disagreement with 
 Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day. 
 
 Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly 
 glances cast in her direction as she came running 
 into the garden, leading 'the widow's two 
 children. 
 
 She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was 
 coming through the gate, then hurried to Mrs. 
 Willoughby, begging that the children be al- 
 lowed to remain a little longer. She was making 
 up a new game, she said, and needed Willie and 
 Jennie for the set.
 
 104 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "My children do not play in promiscuous 
 games," said the widow, icily. 
 
 "Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro" Polly stam- 
 mered. "It's a new game. You put two here, 
 and two here, and 
 
 "I don't care to know." The widow turned 
 away, and pretended to talk to Julia. 
 
 "Oh !" gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's 
 rebuff. 
 
 She stood with bowed head in the centre of the 
 circle. The blood flew from her cheeks, then 
 she turned to go. 
 
 Douglas stepped quickly to her side. "Wait a 
 minute," he said. She paused, all eyes were 
 turned upon them. "Is this a game that grown- 
 ups can play?" 
 
 "Why, yes, of course." 
 
 "Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need 
 a little amusement just now. Excuse me," he 
 added, turning to the deacons. Then he ran 
 with her out through the trees. 
 
 The deacons and the women stared at each 
 other, aghast. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that?" said Mrs. 
 Willoughby, as the flying skirts of the girl and
 
 Polly of the Circus 105 
 
 the black figure of the man disappeared up the 
 path. 
 
 "I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to 
 me," said Miss Perkins. "The idea of a full- 
 grown parson a-runnin' off to play children's 
 games with a circus ridin' girl!" 
 
 "She isn't such a child," sneered Julia. 
 
 "It's enough to make folks talk," put in Mrs. 
 Willoughby, with a sly look at the deacons. 
 
 "And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church 
 service," bellowed Strong. 
 
 "And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's 
 message," piped Elverson. 
 
 "The church bore all this in silence so long as 
 that girl was sick," snapped Miss Perkins. "But 
 now she's perfectly well, and still a-hanging on. 
 No wonder folks are talking." 
 
 "Who's talking?" thundered Strong. 
 
 "Didn't you know?" simpered Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby, not knowing herself nor caring, so 
 long as the suspicion grew. 
 
 "Know what?" yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. 
 Willoughby floundered. Miss Perkins rushed 
 into the breach. 
 
 "Well, if / was deacon of this church, it seems
 
 106 Polly of the Circus 
 
 to me I'd know something about what's going on 
 in it." 
 
 "What is goin' on?" shrieked the now desperate 
 deacon. 
 
 The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged 
 knowing glances, then shook their heads at his 
 hopeless stupidity. 
 
 Strong was not accustomed to criticism. He 
 prided himself upon his acuteness, and was, 
 above all, vain about his connection with the 
 church. He looked from one woman to the 
 other. He was seething with helpless rage. The 
 little deacon at his side coughed nervously. 
 Strong's pent up wrath exploded. "Why didn't 
 you tell me, Elverson, that people was a-talkin'," 
 he roared in the frightened man's ear. 
 
 Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing 
 definite came of the sounds; so Strong again 
 turned to Miss Perkins : 
 
 "What is going on?" he demanded. 
 
 The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted 
 her eyes heavenward, knowing that nothing could 
 so madden the deacon as this mysterious infer- 
 ence of things too terrible to mention. She was 
 right. Strong uttered a desperate "Bah !" and
 
 Polly of the Circus 107 
 
 began pacing up and down the garden with reck- 
 less strides. 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret de 
 light, and when he came to a halt, she wriggled 
 to his side with simpering sweetness. 
 
 "What could folks say?" she asked. "A min- 
 ister and a young circus riding girl living here 
 like this with no one to " She found no words 
 at this point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, 
 declared that the congregation should have no 
 further cause for gossip, and went out quickly 
 in search of Douglas. 
 
 When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the 
 set faces of the women, and attempted a weak 
 apology for the pastor. "I dare say the young 
 man was very lonely very before she came." 
 
 "Lonely?" snapped Miss Perkins. "Well, if 
 he was lonely, I didn't know it." 
 
 The deacon excused himself nervously, and 
 went to join Strong. 
 
 The women gathered up their buntings, and 
 retired with bland smiles to the Sunday-school- 
 room, feeling that they had accomplished enough 
 for the time being. 
 
 Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still
 
 108 Polly of the Circus 
 
 in search of the pastor. They turned at the 
 sound of fluttering leaves and beheld Douglas, 
 hatless, tearing down the path. Strong called 
 to him, but Douglas darted quickly behind the 
 hedge. The deacons looked at one another in 
 speechless astonishment. Presently the silence 
 was broken by the distant voice of Polly count- 
 ing from one to one hundred. The secret was 
 out! The pastor, a leader of the church, was 
 playing hide-and-seek. 
 
 "Mr. Douglas !" shouted Strong, when his 
 breath had returned. 
 
 "Hush, hush!" whispered Douglas, looking 
 over the hedge. He peeped cautiously about 
 him, then came toward the men with a sigh of 
 relief. "It's all right. She has gone the other 
 way." 
 
 "It'll be a good thing for you if she never 
 comes back," said Strong, and Douglas's quick 
 ear caught an unpleasant meaning in his tone. 
 
 "What's that?" the pastor asked, in a low, 
 steady voice. 
 
 "We don't like some of the things that are 
 going on here, and I want to talk to you about 
 'em."
 
 Polly of the Circus 109 
 
 "Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower 
 key." 
 
 "Never mind about the key," shouted Strong, 
 angrily. 
 
 "But I do mind." Something in his eyes made 
 the deacon lower his voice. 
 
 "We want to know how much longer that giri 
 is goin' to stay here ?" 
 
 "Indeed! And why?" The colour was leav- 
 ing Douglas's face, and his jaw was becoming 
 very square. 
 
 "Because she's been here long enough." 
 
 "I don't agree with you there." 
 
 "Well, it don't make no difference whether you 
 do or not. She's got to go." 
 
 "Go?" echoed Douglas. 
 
 "Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to 
 that." 
 
 "And who do you mean by 'we'?" 
 
 "The members of this congregation," replied 
 Strong, impatiently. 
 
 "Am I to understand that you are speaking 
 for them?" There was a deep frown between 
 the young pastor's eyes. He was beginning to 
 be perplexed.
 
 110 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Yes, and as deacon of this church." 
 
 "Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the 
 congregation for me that that is my affair." 
 
 "Your affair!" shouted Strong. "When that 
 girl is living under the church's roof, eating the 
 church's bread!" 
 
 "Just one moment! You don't quite under- 
 stand. I am minister of this church, and for 
 that position I receive, or am supposed to re- 
 ceive, a salary to live on, and this parsonage, 
 rent free, to live in. Any guests that I may 
 have here are my guests, and not guests of the 
 church. Remember that, please." 
 
 There was an embarrassing silence. The dea- 
 cons recalled that the pastor's salary waft 
 slightly in arrears. Elverson coughed meekly. 
 Strong started. 
 
 "You keep out of this, Elverson !" he cried. 
 "I'm running this affair and I ain't forgetting 
 my duty nor the parson's." 
 
 "I shall endeavour to do my duty as I see it," 
 answered Douglas, turning away and dismissing 
 the matter. 
 
 "Your duty is to your church," thundered 
 Strong.
 
 Polly of the Circus 111 
 
 "You're right about that, Deacon Strong," 
 answered Douglas, wheeling about sharply, "and 
 my duty to the church is reason enough for my 
 acting exactly as I am doing in this case." 
 
 "Is your duty to the church the only reason 
 you keep that girl here?" 
 
 "No, there are other reasons." 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 "You've heard her story you must have heard. 
 She was left with me by an old clown who be- 
 longed in the circus where she worked. Before 
 he died he asked me to look after her. She has 
 no one else. I shall certainly do so." 
 
 "That was when she was hurt. She's well now, 
 and able to go back where she came from. Do 
 you expect us to have our young folks associatin' 
 with a circus ridin' girl?" 
 
 "So, that's it !" cried the pastor, with a pitying 
 look. "You think this child is unfit for your 
 homes because she was once in a circus. For 
 some reason, circus to you spells crime. You 
 call yourself a Christian, Deacon Strong, and 
 yet you insist that I send a good, innocent girl 
 back to a life which you say is sinful. I'm 
 ashamed of you, Strong I'm ashamed of you !"
 
 112 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "That talk don't do no good with me," roared 
 Strong. He was desperate at being accused of 
 an unchristian attitude. 
 
 "I ain't askin' you to send her back to the cir- 
 cus. I don't care where you send her. Get her 
 away from here, that's all." 
 
 "Not so long as she wishes to stay." 
 
 "You won't?" Strong saw that he must try a 
 new attack. He came close to Douglas and spoke 
 with a marked insinuation. "If you was a friend 
 to the girl, you wouldn't want the whole congre- 
 gation a-pointin' fingers at her." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that you're living here alone with her 
 and it looks bad bad for the girl, and bad for 
 you and folks is talkin'." 
 
 "Are you trying to tell me that my people are 
 evil-minded enough to think that I Douglas 
 stopped. He could not frame the question. "I 
 don't believe it," he concluded shortly. 
 
 "You'll be made to believe it if you don't get 
 rid of that girl." 
 
 "Do you believe it?" He turned upon the lit- 
 tle man at his side 1 "Do you believe it, Elver- 
 son?"
 
 Polly of the Circus 113 
 
 Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong 
 monopolising the conversation, that he had be- 
 come hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and 
 the sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his 
 power of speech. He was still gurgling and sput- 
 tering when Strong interrupted, impatiently. 
 
 "It makes no difference whether we believe it 
 or not. We're going to do our duty by the 
 church, and that girl must leave or " 
 
 "Or I must." Douglas pieced out Strong's 
 phrase for himself. "That threat doesn't 
 frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have 
 said, I should refuse to remain in this church" 
 the deacon stepped forward eagerly "were it 
 not that I realise more than ever before how 
 much you need me, how much you ignorant, nar- 
 row-minded creatures need to be taught the 
 meaning of true Christianity." The deacon was 
 plainly disappointed. 
 
 "Is it possible?" gasped Elverson, weakly. 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" 
 asked Strong, when he could trust himself to 
 speak again. 
 
 "I shall do what is best for Miss Polly," said 
 the pastor quietly but firmly.
 
 114 Polly of the Circus 
 
 He turned away to show that the interview was 
 at an end. Strong followed him. Douglas 
 pointed to the gate with a meaning not to be 
 mistaken. "Good afternoon, deacon." 
 
 Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then 
 at the gate, then at the pastor again. "I'll go," 
 he shouted ; "but it ain't the end !" He slammed 
 the gate behind him. 
 
 "Quite so, quite so," chirped Elverson, not hav- 
 ing the slightest idea of what he was saying. He 
 saw the frigid expression on the pastor's face, 
 he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.
 
 Chapter X 
 
 DOUGLAS dropped wearily onto the rustic bench. 
 He sat with drooped head and unseeing eyes. 
 He did not hear Polly as she scurried down the 
 path, her arms filled with autumn leaves. She 
 glanced at him, dropped the bright-coloured 
 foliage, and slipped quickly to the nearest tree. 
 "One, two, three for Mr. John," she cried, as 
 she patted the huge, brown trunk. 
 
 "Is that you, Polly?" he asked absently. 
 
 "Now, it's your turn to catch me," she said, 
 lingering near the tree. The pastor was again 
 lost in thought. "Aren't you going to play 
 any more?" There was a shade of disappoint- 
 ment in her voice. She came slowly to his 
 side. 
 
 "Sit here, Polly," he answered gravely, point- 
 ing to a place on the bench. "I want to talk to 
 you." 
 
 "Now, I've done something wrong," she pouted. 
 She gathered up her garlands and brought them 
 to a place near his feet, ignoring the seat at his
 
 116 Polly of the Circus 
 
 side. "You might just as well tell me and get 
 it over." 
 
 "You couldn't do anything wrong," he an- 
 swered, looking down at her. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I could and I've done it I can see 
 it in your face. What is it?" 
 
 "What have you there?" he asked, trying to 
 gain time, and not knowing how to broach the 
 subject that in justice to her must be dis- 
 cussed. 
 
 "Some leaves to make garlands for the social," 
 Polly answered more cheerfully. "Would yon 
 mind holding this?" She gave him one end of a 
 string of leaves. 
 
 "Where are the children?" 
 
 "Gone home." 
 
 "You like the children very much, don't you, 
 Polly?" Douglas was striving for a path that 
 might lead them to the subject that was 
 troubling him. 
 
 "Oh, no, I don't like them, I love them." She 
 looked at him with tender eyes. 
 
 "You're the greatest baby of all." A puzzled 
 line came between his eyes as he studied her more 
 closely. "And yet, you're not such a child, are
 
 Polly of the Circus 117 
 
 you, Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a 
 young lady." He looked at her from a strange, 
 unwelcome point of view. She was all of that 
 as she sat at his feet, yearning and slender and 
 fair, at the turning of her seventeenth year. 
 
 "I wonder how you would like to go way?" Her 
 eyes met his in terror. "Away to a great school," 
 he added quickly, flinching from the very first 
 hurt that he had inflicted; "where there are a 
 lot of other young ladies." 
 
 "Is it a place where you would be ?" She looked 
 up at him anxiously. She wondered if his 
 "show" was about to "move on." 
 
 "I'm afraid not," Douglas answered, smiling in 
 spite of his heavy heart. 
 
 "I wouldn't like any place without you," she 
 said decidedly, and seemed to consider the sub- 
 ject dismissed. 
 
 "But if it was for your good" Douglas per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "It could never be for my good to leave you." 
 
 "But just for a little while," he pleaded. How 
 was she ever to understand? How could he take 
 from her the sense of security that he had pur- 
 posely taught her to feel in his house?
 
 118 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Not even for a moment," Polly answered, with 
 a decided shake of her head. 
 
 "But you must get ahead in your studies," he 
 argued. 
 
 She looked at him anxiously. She was begin- 
 ning to be alarmed at his persistence. 
 
 "Maybe I've been playing too manj periscous 
 games." 
 
 "Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous." 
 
 "Pro-mis-cuous," she repeated, haltingly. 
 "What does that mean?" 
 
 "Indiscriminate." He rubbed his forehead as 
 he saw the puzzled look on her face. "Mixed 
 up," he explained, more simply. 
 
 "Our game wasn't mixed up." She was think- 
 ing of the one to which the widow had objected. 
 "Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?" 
 
 "It depends upon whom you catch," he answered 
 with a dry, whimsical smile. 
 
 "Well, I don't catch anybody but the children." 
 She looked up at him with serious, inquiring 
 eyes. 
 
 "Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't pro- 
 miscuous." She did not hear him. She was 
 searching for her book.
 
 Polly of the Circus 119 
 
 "Is this what you are looking for?" he asked, 
 drawing the missing article from his pocket. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Polly, with a flush of embarrass- 
 ment. "Mandy told you." 
 
 "You've been working a long time on that." 
 
 "I thought I might help you if I learned every- 
 thing you told me," she answered, timidly. "But 
 I don't suppose I could." 
 
 "I can never tell you how much you help me, 
 Polly." 
 
 'Do I?" she cried, eagerly. 
 
 "I can help more if you will only let me. I can 
 teach a bigger class in Sunday-school now. I 
 got to the book of Ruth to-day." 
 
 "You did?" He pretended to be astonished. 
 He was anxious to encourage her enthusiasm. 
 
 "Urn hum!" She answered solemnly. A 
 dreamy look came into her eyes. "Do you 
 remember the part that you read to me the first 
 day I came?" He nodded. He was thinking 
 how care-free they were that day. How impos- 
 sible such problems as the present one would 
 have seemed then. "I know every bit of what 
 you read by heart. It's our next Sunday-school 
 lesson."
 
 120 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "So it is." 
 
 "Do you think now that it would be best for 
 ne to go away ?" She looked up into his troubled 
 face. 
 
 "We'll see, we'll see," he murmured, then tried 
 to turn her mind toward other things. "Come 
 now, let's find out whether you do know your 
 Sunday-school lesson. How does it begin?'* 
 There was no answer. She had turned awaj 
 with trembling lips. "And Ruth said" he took 
 her two small hands and drew her face toward 
 him, meaning to prompt her. 
 
 "Entreat me not to leave thee," she pleaded. 
 Her eyes met his. His face was close to hers. 
 The small features before him were quivering 
 with emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so 
 easily within his grasp. His muscles grew tense 
 and his lips closed firmly. He was battling 
 with an impulse to draw her toward him and com- 
 fort her in the shelter of his strong, brave 
 arms. "They shan't !" he cried, starting toward 
 her. 
 
 Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had 
 heard and seen the things revealed to each of us 
 only once. She would never again be a child.
 
 *'Oh, you won't send me away, will you?"
 
 Folly of the Circus 121 
 
 Douglas braced himself against the back of the 
 bench. 
 
 "What was the rest of the lesson?" he asked in 
 a firm, hard voice. 
 
 "I can't say it now," Polly murmured. Her 
 face was averted; her white lids fluttered and 
 closed. 
 
 "Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, 
 I'll help you." Douglas spoke sharply. He was 
 almost vexed with her and with himself for the 
 weakness that was so near overcoming them. 
 "And Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to leave 
 thee ' " 
 
 " 'Or to return from following after thee.' ' 
 She was struggling to keep back the tears. " 'For 
 whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou 
 lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my 
 people, and thy God my' " She stopped. 
 
 "That's right, go on," said Douglas, striv- 
 ing to control the unsteadiness in his own 
 voice. 
 
 "Where thou diest, will I die' ' : her arms went 
 out blindly. 
 
 "Oh, you won't send me away, will you?" she 
 sobbed. "I don't want to learn anything else
 
 122 Polly of the Circus 
 
 just except from you." She covered her face 
 and slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet. 
 
 In an instant the pastor's strong arms were 
 about her, his stalwart body was supporting her. 
 "You shan't go away. I won't let you I won't ! 
 Do you hear me, Polly ? I won't 1" 
 
 Her breath was warm against his cheek. He 
 could feel her tears, her arms about him, as she 
 clung to him helplessly, sobbing and quivering in 
 the shelter of his strong embrace. You are 
 never going to leave me never!" 
 
 A new purpose had come into his life, the real- 
 isation of a new necessity, and he knew that the 
 fight which he must henceforth make for this 
 child was the same that he must make for himself.
 
 Chapter XI 
 
 "I'sE goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take 
 off dat ere widow's finishin' touches," said 
 Mandy, as she came down the steps. 
 
 "All right !" called Douglas. "Take these with 
 you, perhaps they may help." He gathered up 
 the garlands which Polly had left on the ground. 
 His eyes were shining, he looked younger than 
 Mandy had ever seen him. 
 
 Polly had turned her back at the sound of 
 Mandy's voice and crossed to the elm tree, dry- 
 ing her tears of happiness and trying to control 
 her newly awakened emotions. Douglas felt in- 
 tuitively that she needed this moment for re- 
 covery, so he piled the leaves and garlands high 
 in Mandy's arms, then ran into the house with 
 the light step of a boy. 
 
 "I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up," 
 said Mandy as she shot a sly glance at Polly. 
 
 "That's good," Polly answered, facing Mandy 
 at last and dimpling and blushing guiltily. 
 
 "Mos* de sociable folks will mos' likely be
 
 124 Polly of the Circus 
 
 bangin' roun' de parsonage to-night, 'stead ob 
 stayin' in de Sunday-school-room, whar dey be- 
 longs. Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby 
 done set aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin' de parson as 
 how folks could jes' eat off'n her kitchen floor, 
 an' I ups an' tells her as how folks could pick 
 up a good, squar' meal off'n Mandy's floor, too. 
 Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says 
 afore Mandy to-night." She chuckled as she 
 disappeared down the walk to the Sunday-school- 
 room. 
 
 Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left 
 her. She hardly knew which way to turn. She 
 was happy, yet afraid. She felt like sinking 
 upon her knees and begging God to be good to 
 her, to help her. She who had once been so in- 
 dependent, so self-reliant, now felt the need of 
 direction from above. She was no longer master 
 of her own soul, something had gone from her, 
 something that would never, never come again. 
 While she hesitated, Hasty came through the 
 gate looking anxiously over his shoulder. 
 
 "Well, Hast}^?" she said, for it was apparent 
 that Hasty had something important on his 
 mind.
 
 Polly of the Circus 125 
 
 "It's de big one from de circus," he whispered, 
 excitedly. 
 
 "The big one?" 
 
 "You know De one what brung you." 
 
 "You don't mean ?" Polly's question was 
 answered by Jim himself who had f oUowed Hasty 
 quickly through the gate. Their arms were in- 
 stantly about each other. Jim forgot Hasty 
 and every one in the world except Polly, and 
 neither of them noticed the horrified Miss Per- 
 kins and the Widow Willoughby, who had been 
 crossing the yard on their way from the Sunday- 
 school-room with Julia. 
 
 "You're just as big as ever," said Polly, when 
 she could let go of Jim long enough to look at 
 him. "You haven't changed a bit." 
 
 "You've changed enough for both of us." He 
 looked at the unfamiliar long skirts and the new 
 way of doing her hair. "You're bigger, Poll; 
 more grown up like." 
 
 "Oh, Jim !" She glanced admiringly at the 
 new brown suit, the rather startling tie, and the 
 neat little posy in Jim's buttonhole. 
 
 "The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if 
 I was a-comin' to see you, so as not to make you
 
 126 Polly of the Circus 
 
 ashamed of me. Do you like 'em?" he asked, 
 looking down approvingly at his new brown 
 clothes. 
 
 "Very much." For the first time Jim noticed 
 the unfamiliar manner of her speech. He began 
 to feel self-conscious. A year ago she would 
 have said, "You bet!" He looked at her awk- 
 wardly. She hurried on: "Hasty told me you 
 were showing in Wakefield. I knew you'd come 
 to see me. How's Barker and all the boys?" 
 She stopped with a catch in her throat, and 
 added more slowly: "I suppose everything's 
 different, now that Toby is gone." 
 
 "He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in," 
 Jim answered; "but maybe it was just as well 
 he didn't. You'd hardly a-knowed him toward 
 the last, he got so thin an' peeked like. He 
 wasn't the same after we lost you, nobody was, 
 not even Bingo." 
 
 "Have you still got Bingo ?" she asked, through 
 her tears. 
 
 "Yep, we got him," drawled Jim, "but he ain't 
 much good no more. None of the other riders 
 can get used to his gait like you was. There 
 ain't nobody with the show what can touch you
 
 Polly of the Circus 127 
 
 ridin', there never will be. Say, mebbe you think 
 Barker won't let out a yell when he sees yer 
 comin' back." Jim was jubilant now, and he 
 let out a little yell of his own at the mere thought 
 of her return. He was too excited to notice the 
 look on Polly's face. "Toby had a notion be- 
 fore he died that you was never a-comin' back, 
 but I told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, 
 and when Barker sent me over here to-day to 
 look arter the advertising he said he guessed 
 you'd had all you wanted a' church folks. 'Jes' 
 you bring her along to Wakefield,' he said, 'an* 
 tell her that her place is waitin' for her,' and I 
 ivill, too." He turned upon Polly with sudden 
 decision. "Why, I feel jes' like pickin' yer up 
 in my arms and carryin' you right off now." 
 
 "Wait, Jim !" She put one tiny hand on his 
 arm to restrain him. 
 
 "I don't mean not to-day mebbe" he 
 stammered, uncertainly, "but we'll be back here 
 a-showin' next month." 
 
 "Don't look at me now," Polly answered, as 
 the dog-like eyes searched her face, "because I 
 have to say something that is going to hurt you, 
 Jim."
 
 128 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?" The big face 
 was wrinkled and care-worn with trouble. 
 
 "No, Jim," she replied in a tone so low that he 
 could scarcely hear her. 
 
 "You mean that you ain't never comin' back?" 
 He tried to realise what such a decision might 
 mean to him. 
 
 "No, Jim." She answered tenderly, for she 
 dreaded the pain that she must cause the great, 
 good-hearted fellow. "You mustn't care like 
 that," she pleaded, seeing the blank desolation 
 that had come into his face. "It isn't because 
 I don't love you just the same, and it was good 
 of Barker to keep my place for me, but I can't 
 go back." 
 
 He turned away ; she clung to the rough, brown 
 sleeve. "Why, Jim, when I lie in my little room 
 up there at night" she glanced toward the win- 
 dow above them "and everything is peaceful and 
 still, I think how it used to be in the old days, 
 the awful noise and the rush of it all, the cheer- 
 less wagons, the mob in the tent, the ring with 
 its blazing lights, the whirling round and round 
 on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops, till 
 my head got dizzy and my eyes all dim; and
 
 Polly of the Circus 129 
 
 then the hurry after the show, and the heat and 
 the dust or the mud and the ruin, and the rumble 
 of the wheels in the plains at night, and the 
 shrieks of the animals, and then the parade, the 
 awful, awful parade, and I riding through the 
 streets in tights, Jim Tights !" She covered 
 her face to shut out the memory. "I couldn't 
 go back to it, Jim! I just couldn't!" She 
 turned away, her face still hidden in her hands. 
 He looked at her a long while in silence. 
 
 "I didn't know how you'd come to feel about 
 it," he said doggedly. 
 
 "You aren't angry, Jim?" She turned to him 
 anxiously, her eyes pleading for his forgiveness. 
 
 "Angry?" he echoed, almost bitterly. "I guess 
 it couldn't ever come to that a-tween you an' 
 me. I'll be all right." He shrugged his great 
 shoulders. "It's just kinder sudden, that's all. 
 You see, I never figured on givin' yer up, and 
 when you said you wasn't comin' back, it kinder 
 seemed as though 1 couldn't see nothin' all my 
 life but long, dusty roads, and nobody in 'em. 
 But it's all right now, and I'll just be gettin 5 
 along to the wagon." 
 
 "But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas,"
 
 130 Polly of the Circus 
 
 Polly protested, trying to keep him with her 
 until she could think of some way to comfort 
 him. 
 
 "I'll look in on him comin' back," said Jim, 
 anxious to be alone with his disappointment. He 
 was out of bhe gate before she could stop him. 
 
 "Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting 
 for you." She watched him going quickly down 
 the road, his fists thrust into his brown coat 
 pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes. He 
 did not look back, as he used to do, to wave a 
 parting farewell, and she turned toward the 
 house with a troubled heart. She had reached 
 the lower step when Strong and Elverson ap- 
 proached her from the direction of the church. 
 
 "Was that feller here to take you back to the 
 circus?" demanded Strong. 
 
 She opened her lips to reply, but before she 
 could speak, Strong assured her that the con- 
 gregation wouldn't do anything to stop her if 
 she wished to go. He saw the blank look on her 
 face. "We ain't try in' to pry into none of your 
 private affairs," he explained ; "but my daughter 
 saw you and that there feller a makin' up to each 
 other. If you're calculatin' to run away with
 
 Polly of the Circus 131 
 
 him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson 
 by doin' it quick." 
 
 "The parson!" 
 
 "You can't blame the congregation for not 
 wantin' him to keep you here. You got sense 
 enough to see how it looks. He'd, see it, too, if 
 he wasn't just plain, bull-headed. Well he'd bet- 
 ter get over his stubbornness right now, if he 
 don't we'll get another minister, that's all." 
 
 "Another minister? You don't mean ?" It 
 was clear enough now. She recalled Douglas's 
 troubled look of an hour ago. She remembered 
 how he had asked if she couldn't go away. It 
 was this that he meant when he promised not to 
 give her up, no matter what happened. In an 
 instant she was at the deacon's side pleading and 
 terrified. "You wouldn't get another minister! 
 Oh, please, Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! 
 You were right about Jim, he did come to get 
 me and I am going back to the circus only you 
 won't send Mr. Douglas away, you won't! Say 
 you won't !" She was searching his eyes for 
 mercy. "It wasn't his fault that I kept staying 
 on. He didn't know how to get rid of me. He 
 did try, he tried only to-day."
 
 132 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "So he's comin' 'round," sneered Strong. 
 
 "Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, 
 will you?" she hurried on anxiously. "You'll 
 let him stay, no matter what he does, if I prom- 
 ise to go away and never, never come back 
 again ?" 
 
 "I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him," Strong 
 grumbled. "He talks pretty rough sometimes, 
 but he's been a good enough minister. I ain't 
 forgettin' that." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Mr. Strong, thank you. I'll 
 get my things ; it won't take a minute." She 
 was running up the steps when a sudden thought 
 stopped her. She returned quickly to Strong. 
 "We'd better not let him know just yet. You 
 can tell him afterward. Tell him that I ran 
 away Tell him that " 
 
 She was interrupted by Douglas, who came 
 from the house. "Hello, Strong, back again?" 
 he asked, in some surprise. Polly remained with 
 her eyes fixed upon the deacon, searching for 
 some way of escape. The pastor approached; 
 she burst into nervous laughter. "What's the 
 joke?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "It's only a little surprise that the deacon and
 
 Polly of the Circus 133 
 
 I are planning." She tried to control the catch 
 in her voice. "You'll know about it soon, won't 
 he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr. Strong!" 
 She flew into the house, laughing hysterically. 
 
 Douglas followed her to the steps with a puz- 
 zled frown. It was unlike Polly to give way to 
 her moods before others. "Have you gentlemen 
 changed your minds about the little girl staying 
 on?" he asked, uneasily. 
 
 "It's all right now," said Strong, seating him- 
 self with a complacent air. 
 
 "All right? How so?" questioned Douglas, 
 more and more puzzled by the deacon's evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Because," said Strong, rising and facing the 
 pastor, "because your circus-ridin' gal is goin' 
 to leave you of her own accord." 
 
 "Have you been talking to that girl?" asked 
 Douglas, sternly. 
 
 "I have," said Strong, holding his ground. 
 "See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating 
 that child, I may forget that I'm a minister." 
 The knuckles on Douglas's large fists grew 
 whiter. 
 
 "She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of
 
 134 Polly of the Circus 
 
 what I said either. She's goin' back to the cir- 
 cus." 
 
 "I don't believe you." 
 
 "You would a-believed me if you'd seen the 
 fellow that was just a-callin' on her, and her 
 a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and a-promisin' 
 that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he 
 come back." 
 
 "You lie !" cried Douglas, taking a step toward 
 the retreating deacon. 
 
 "There's the fellow now," cried Strong, as he 
 pointed to the gate. "Suppose you ask him 
 afore yer call me a liar." 
 
 Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approach- 
 ing. His face lighted up with relief at the 
 sight of the big, lumbering fellow. 
 
 "How are yer, Mr. Douglas?" said Jim, awk- 
 wardly. 
 
 "You've seen Polly?" asked Douglas, shaking 
 Jim cordially by the hand. 
 
 "Yes, I've seen her." 
 
 "The deacon here has an idea that Polly is go- 
 ing back to the circus with you." He nodded to- 
 ward Strong, almost laughing at the surprise in 
 store for him.
 
 Polly of the Circus 135 
 
 "Back to the circus?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Did she say anything to you about it?" He 
 was worried by the bewilderment in Jim's man- 
 ner. 
 
 Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached 
 the steps in time to catch the last few words, 
 slipped quickly between them. She wore her 
 coat and hat, and carried a small brown satchel. 
 
 "Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?" she said, turn- 
 ing her back upon the pastor and motioning to 
 Jim not to answer. Douglas gazed at her in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse, 
 strained voice. He glanced at the coat and hat. 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously 
 to Jim. 
 
 "What made you come back ? Why didn't you 
 wait for me down the street? Now, you've 
 spoiled everything." She pretended to be very 
 vexed with him. The big fellow looked puzzled. 
 He tried to protest, but she put a warning finger 
 to her lips and pressed the little brown satchel 
 into his hand. "It's no use," she went on hur- 
 riedly. "We might as well tell them everything
 
 136 Polly of the Circus 
 
 now." She turned to Douglas and pretended to 
 laugh. "You have found us out." 
 
 The deacons were slightly uneasy ; the frown on 
 Douglas's forehead was deepening. 
 ^ "Oh, see how serious he looks," she teased, with 
 a toss of her head toward the grim-visaged 
 pastor. 
 
 "Is this some trick?" lie demanded, sternly. 
 
 "Don't be angry," she pleaded. "Wish me 
 luck." 
 
 She held out one small hand ; he did not take it. 
 She wavered, then she felt the eyes of the dea- 
 cons upon her. Courage returned and she spoke 
 in a firm, clear voice : "I am going to run away." 
 
 Douglas stepped before her and studied her 
 keenly. 
 
 "Run away?" he exclaimed incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, to the circus with Jim." 
 
 "You couldn't do such a thing," he answered, 
 excitedly. "Why, only a moment ago you told 
 me you would never leave me." 
 
 "Oh, but that was a moment ago," she cried, in 
 a strained, high voice. "That was before Jim 
 came. You see, I didn't know how I felt until 
 I saw Jim and heard all about my old friends,
 
 Polly of the Circus 137 
 
 how Barker is keeping my place for me, and 
 how they all want to see me. And 7 want to see 
 them, and to hear the music and the laughter 
 and the clown songs Oh, the clown songs!" 
 She waltzed about, humming the snatch of mel- j 
 ody that Mandy had heard the morning that 
 Polly first woke in the parsonage. 
 
 "Ting, ling. 
 
 That's how the bells ring, 
 
 Ting, ling, pretty young thing" 
 
 She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, 
 and gazed at them with a brave, little smile. 
 "Oh, it's going to be fine ! Fine !" 
 
 "You don't know what you're doing," said 
 Douglas. He seized her roughly by the arm. 
 Pain was making him brutal. "I won't let you 
 go ! Do you hear me ? I won't not until you've 
 thought it over." 
 
 "I have thought it over," Polly answered, meet- 
 ing his eyes and trying to speak lightly. Her 
 lips trembled. She could not bear for him to 
 think her so ungrateful. She remembered his 
 great kindness; the many thoughtful acts that 
 had made the past year so precious to her. 
 
 "You've been awfully good to me, Mr. John."
 
 138 Polly of the Circus 
 
 She tried to choke back a sob. "I'll never forget 
 it never ! I'll always feel the same toward you. 
 But you mustn't ask me to stay. I want to get 
 back to them that knew me first to my own! 
 Circus folks aren't cut out for parsons' homes, 
 and I was born in the circus. I love it I love 
 it! She felt her strength going, and cried out 
 wildly: "I want Bingo! I want to go round 
 and round the ring ! I want the lights and the 
 music and the hoops ! I want the shrieks of the 
 animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the 
 plains at night ! I want to ride in the big pa- 
 rade ! I want to live and die just die as circus 
 folks die ! I want to go back ! I want to go 
 back !" 
 
 She put out one trembling hand to Jim and 
 rushed quickly through the gate laughing and 
 sobbing hysterically and calling to him to follow.
 
 Chapter XII 
 
 LONELY da.js followed Polly's desertion of the 
 parsonage. Mandy went about her duties very 
 quietly, feeling that the little comments which 
 once amused the pastor had now become an in- 
 terruption to thoughts in which she had no part. 
 He would sit for hours with his head in his hands, 
 taking no notice of what passed before him. She 
 tried to think of new dishes to tempt his appetite, 
 and shook her head sadly as she bore the un- 
 tasted food back to the kitchen. 
 
 She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings 
 lying open upon his study table. She remem- 
 bered the zeal with which he had planned to re- 
 model the church and parsonage, when he first 
 came to them ; how his enthusiasm had gradually 
 died for lack of encouragement ; and how he had 
 at last put his books in a cupboard, where they 
 grew dusty from long neglect. She marvelled at 
 their reappearance now, but something in his 
 set, far-away look made her afraid to inquire. 
 Thus she went on from day to day, growing
 
 140 Polly of the Circus 
 
 more impatient with Hasty and more silent with 
 the pastor. 
 
 Mandy needed humor and companionship to 
 oil the wheels of her humdrum life ; there was 
 no more laughter in the house, and she began to 
 droop. 
 
 Polly had been away from the parsonage a 
 month, when the complacency of the village was 
 again upset by the arrival of the "Great Ameri- 
 can Circus." 
 
 There were many callers at the parsonage that 
 day, for speculation was now at fever heat 
 about the pastor. "Would he try to see her? had 
 he forgotten her? and what had he ever found 
 in her?" were a few of the many questions that 
 the women were asking each other. Now, that 
 the cause of their envy was removed, they would 
 gladly have reinstated the pastor as their idol; 
 for, like all truly feminine souls, they could not 
 bear to see a man unhapp} r without wishing to 
 comfort him, nor happy unless they were the 
 direct cause of his state. "How dare any man 
 be happy without me?" has been the cry of each 
 woman since Eve was created to mate with Adam. 
 
 Douglas had held himself more and more aloof
 
 Polly of the Circus 141 
 
 from the day of Polly's disappearance. He ex- 
 pressed no opinion about the deacons or their 
 recent disapproval of him. He avoided meeting 
 them oftener than duty required; and Strong 
 felt so uncomfortable and tongue-tied in his 
 presence that he, too, was glad to make their 
 talks as few as possible. 
 
 Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for 
 the future, or about his continued connection 
 with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood 
 was on the point of exploding from an over-ac- 
 cumulation of unanswered questions. 
 
 He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called 
 upon his poor, listened to the sorrows, real and 
 fancied, of his parishioners, and shut himself 
 up with his books or walked alone on the hill 
 behind the church. 
 
 He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked 
 
 out on the circus lot for the dozenth time, and 
 
 I saw that the afternoon performance was closing. 
 
 It had driven her to desperation to learn that 
 
 Miss Polly was not in the parade that morning, 
 
 and to know that the pastor had made no effort 
 
 to find out about her. For weeks both she and 
 
 Hasty had hoped that the return of the circus
 
 142 Polly of the Circus 
 
 might bring Polly back to them ; but now it was 
 nearly night and there had been no word from 
 her. Why didn't she come running in to see 
 them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would ? Wh j 
 had the pastor stayed away on the hills al 
 day? 
 
 Unanswered questions were always an abomina- 
 tion to Mandy, so finally she drew a quarter from 
 the knotted gingham rag that held her small 
 wad of savings, and told Hasty "to go long to 
 de show and find out 'bout Miss Polly." 
 
 She was anxiously waiting for him, when Dea- 
 con Strong knocked at the door for the second 
 time that afternoon. 
 
 "Is Mr. Douglas back yet?" he asked. 
 
 "No, sah, he ain't," said Mandy, very shortly. 
 She felt that Strong and Elverson had been 
 "a-tryin* to spy on de parson all day," and she 
 resented their visits more than she usually did. 
 
 "What time are you expectin' him?" 
 
 "I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I 
 sees him." 
 
 Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the 
 steps. She saw from the window that he met 
 Elverson in front of the church.
 
 Polly of the Circus 143 
 
 "Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble," she mum- 
 bled. 
 
 The band had stopped playing ; the last of the 
 audience had straggled down the street. She 
 opened the door and stood on the porch; the 
 house seemed to suffocate her. What was keep- 
 ing Hasty? 
 
 He came at last, but Mandy could tell from 
 his gait that he brought unwelcome news. 
 
 "Ain't she dar?" 
 
 "She's wid 'em, all right," said Hasty. 
 
 "Yuh seed her?" 
 
 "Naw, I didn't done seed her." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "She want in de show." 
 
 "What you jes' tell me?" 
 
 "She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she 
 didn't done ride." 
 
 "See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?" 
 
 "I don' rightly know," said Hasty. "A great 
 big man, what wored clothes like a gemmen, 
 corned out wid a whip in his hand and says as 
 how he's 'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss 
 Polly's place. An' den he says as how de udder 
 gal was jes' as good, an' den everybody look
 
 144 Polly of the Circus 
 
 disappinted like, an' den out comes de udder gal 
 on a boss an' do tricks, an' I ain't heard no more 
 'bout Miss Polly." 
 
 "Why didn't you done ask somebody?" 
 
 "Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz 
 hurry in' ever'body to get out of de tent. I 
 done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git ma 
 money's worth?' an' den ebberbody laugh, an' 
 he shove me 'long wid de rest of de folks, an* 
 here I is." 
 
 "She's sick, dat's what / says," Mand} 7 declared, 
 excitedly ; "an' somebody's got to do somethin' !" 
 
 "I done all I knowed," drawled Hasty, fearing 
 that Mandy was regretting her twenty-five-cent 
 investment. 
 
 "Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire," 
 was Mandy's impatient reply. "I got to keep 
 dem vittels warm fer Massa John." 
 
 She wished to be alone, so that she could think 
 of some way to get hold of Polly. "Dat baby- 
 faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy all wobbly 
 'bout de heart," she declared to herself, as she 
 crossed to the window for a sight of the pastor. 
 
 It was nearly dark when she saw him coming 
 slowly down the path from the hill. She lighted
 
 Uy of the Circus 145 
 
 the study-lamp, rearranged the cushions, and 
 tried to make the room look cheery for his en- 
 trance. He stopped in the hall and hung up 
 his hat. There was momentary silence. Would 
 he shut himself in his room for the night, or 
 would he come into the study? At last the door 
 opened and Mandy hastened to place a chair 
 for him. 
 
 "Airs 'fraid you'se mighty tired," she said. 
 
 "Oh, no," answered Douglas, absently. 
 
 "Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your 
 supper in here to-night. It's more cheerfuller." 
 
 The side-showman was already beginning his 
 spiel in the lot below. The lemonade venders 
 and the popcorn sellers were heard crying their 
 wares. Douglas did not answer her. She bus- 
 tled from the room, declaring "she was jes' goin' 
 ter bring him a morsel." 
 
 He crossed to the window and looked out upon 
 the circus lot. The flare of the torches and the 
 red fire came up to meet his pale, tense face. 
 "How like the picture of thirteen months ago," 
 he thought, and old Toby's words came back to 
 him "The show has got to go on." 
 
 Above the church steeple, the moon was bat-
 
 146 Polly of the Circus 
 
 tling its way through the clouds. His eyes trav- 
 elled from heaven to earth. There was a spirit 
 of unreality in it all. Something made him 
 mistrust himself, his very existence. He longed 
 to have done with dreams and speculation, to 
 feel something tangible, warm, and real within 
 his grasp. "I can't go on like this !" he cried. 
 "I can't !" He turned from the window and 
 walked hurriedly up and down the room ; indoors 
 or out, he found no rest. He threw himself in 
 the armchair near the table, and sat buried in 
 thought. 
 
 Mandy came softly into the room. She was 
 followed by Hasty, who carried a tray, laden 
 with things that ought to have tempted any 
 man. She motioned for Hasty to put the tray 
 on the table, and then began arranging the dishes. 
 Hasty stole to the window, and peeped out at 
 the tempting flare of red fire. 
 
 When Douglas discovered the presence of his 
 two "faithfuls" he was touched with momentary 
 contrition. He knew that he often neglected to 
 chat with them now, and he made an effort to 
 say something that might restore the old feeling 
 of comradeship.
 
 Polly of the Circus 147 
 
 "Have you had a hard day with the new gravel 
 walk?" he asked Hasty, remembering that he had 
 been laying a fresh path to the Sunday-school- 
 room. 
 
 Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either 
 to lie or tell the truth about the disposition she 
 had made of his afternoon. 
 
 "Jes' you come eat yo' supper," Mandy called 
 to Douglas. "Don' yous worry your head 'bout 
 dat lazy husban' ob mine. He ain' goin' ter 
 work 'nuff to hurt hisself ." For an instant she 
 had been tempted to let the pastor know how 
 Hasty had gone to the circus and seen nothing 
 of Polly ; but her motherly instinct won the day 
 and she urged him to eat before disturbing him 
 with her own anxieties. It was no use. He 
 only toyed with his food; he was clearly ill at 
 ease and eager to be alone. She gave up trying 
 to tempt his appetite, and began to lead up in a 
 roundabout way to the things which she wished 
 to ask. 
 
 "Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot to- 
 night," she said ; Douglas did not answer. After 
 a moment, she went on : "Hasty didn't work on 
 no walk to-day." Douglas looked at her quiz-
 
 148 Polly of the Circus 
 
 zically, while Hasty, convinced that for reasons 
 of her own she was going to get him into trouble, 
 was making frantic motions. "He done gone to 
 de circus," she blurted out. Douglas's face be- 
 came suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had 
 touched an open wound. 
 
 "I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John. I had to 
 find out 'bout dat angel chile." There was a 
 pause. She felt that he was waiting for her to 
 go on. 
 
 "She didn't done ride to-day." 
 
 He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, perse- 
 cuted animal. "And de gemmen in de show 
 didn't tell nobody why jes' speaked about* de 
 udder gal takin' her place." 
 
 "Why didn't she ride?" cried Douglas, in an 
 agony of suspense. 
 
 "Dat's what I don' know, sah." Mandy began 
 to cry. It was the first time in his experience 
 that Douglas had ever known her to give way 
 to any such weakness. He walked up and down 
 the room, uncertain what to do. 
 
 Hasty came down from the window and tried to 
 put one arm about Mandy's shoulders. 
 
 "Leab me alone, you nigga!" she exclaimed.
 
 Polly of the Circus 149 
 
 trying to cover her tears with a show of anger 
 that she did not feel; then she rushed from the 
 room, followed by Hasty. 
 
 The band was playing loudly ; the din of the 
 night performance was increasing. Douglas's 
 nerves were strained to a point of breaking. He 
 would not let himself go near the window. He 
 stood by the side of the table, his fists clenched, 
 and tried to beat back the impulse that was pull- 
 ing him toward the door. Again and again he 
 set his teeth. 
 
 It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. 
 Was she ill? Could she need him? Was she 
 sorry for having left him? Would she be glad 
 if he went for her and brought her back with 
 him? He recalled the hysterical note in her be- 
 haviour the day that she went away ; how she 
 had pleaded, only a few moments before Jim 
 came, never to be separated from him. Had she 
 really cared for Jim and for the old life? Why 
 had she never written ? Was she ashamed ? Was 
 she sorry for what she had done? What could 
 it mean? He threw his hands above his head 
 with a gesture of despair. A moment later, he 
 passed out into the night.
 
 Chapter XIII 
 
 JIM was slow to-night. The big show was nearly 
 over, yet many of the props used in the early 
 part of the bill were still unloaded. i 
 
 He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of 
 the wagons in the back lot, and the men were 
 standing about idly, waiting for orders, when 
 Barker came out of the main tent and called to 
 him sharply: 
 
 "Hey, there, Jim ! What's your excuse to- 
 night?" 
 
 "Excuse for what?" Jim crossed slowly to 
 Barker. 
 
 "The cook tent was started half an 
 hour late, and the side show top ain't loaded 
 yet." 
 
 "Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! 
 Number thirty-eight carries the cook tent and 
 the blacksmith has been tinkering with it all day. 
 Ask him what shape it's in." 
 
 "You're always stallin'," was Barker's sullen 
 complaint. "It's the wagons, or the black-
 
 Folly of the Circus 151 
 
 smiths, or anything but the truth. / know what's 
 the matter, all right." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" asked Jim, 
 sharply. 
 
 "I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' 
 and a-fetchin' for that girl what calls you 'Muv- 
 ver Jim.' ' 
 
 "What have yer got to say about her?" Jim 
 eyed him with a threatening look. 
 
 "I got a-plenty," said Barker, as he 
 turned to snap his whip at the small boys 
 who had stolen into the back lot to peek 
 under the rear edge of the "big top." "She's 
 been about as much good as a sick cat since 
 she come back. You saw her act last 
 night." 
 
 "Yes," answered Jim, doggedly. 
 
 "Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at all this 
 afternoon said she was sick. And me with all 
 them people inside what knowed her, waitin' ter 
 see 'er." 
 
 "Give her a little time," Jim pleaded. "She 
 ain't rode for a year." 
 
 "Time !" shouted Barker. "How much does she 
 want? She's been back a month and instead o'
 
 152 Polly of the Circus 
 
 bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. There's only 
 one thing for me to do." 
 
 "What's that?" asked Jim, uneasily. 
 
 "I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard." 
 
 "Look here, Barker," and Jim squared his 
 shoulders as he looked steadily at the other man ; 
 "you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, 
 but if I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein* 
 boss won't make no difference." 
 
 "You can't bluff me," shouted Barker. 
 
 "I ain't bluffin' ; I'm only tellin' yer," said Jim, 
 very quietly. 
 
 "Well, you tell her to get onto her job. If she 
 don't she quits, that's all." He hurried into the 
 ring. 
 
 Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped 
 and gazed at the ground with thoughtful eyes. 
 He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had 
 tried to rouse her ; it was no use. She had looked 
 at him blankly. 'If she would only complain," 
 he said to himself. "If she would only get mad, 
 anything, anything to wake her." But she did 
 not complain. She went through her daily rou- 
 tine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes 
 wondered how Jim could talk so much about her
 
 Polly of the Circus 153 
 
 work, but before she could answer the question, 
 her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden 
 and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and 
 left her with folded hands and wide, staring eyes, 
 gazing into the distance. 
 
 The memory of these times made Jim helpless 
 to-night. He had gone on hoping from day to 
 day that Barker might not notice the "let-down" 
 in her work, and now the blow had fallen. How 
 could he tell her? 
 
 One of the acts came tumbling out of the main 
 tent. There was a moment's confusion, as 
 clowns, acrobats and animals passed each other 
 on their way to and from the ring, then the lot 
 cleared again, and Polly came slowly from the 
 dressing tent. She looked very different from 
 the little girl whom Jim had led away from the 
 parson's garden in a simple, white frock one 
 month before. Her thin, pensive face contrasted 
 oddly with her glittering attire. Her hair was 
 knotted high on her head nd intertwined with 
 flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed 
 scarcely able to support its burden. Her short, 
 full skirt and low cut bodice were ablaze with 
 white and coloured stones.
 
 154 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "What's on, Jim?" she asked. 
 
 "The 'Leap o' Death!' " You got plenty a' 
 time." 
 
 Polly's mind went back to the girl who an- 
 swered that call a year ago. Her spirit seemed 
 very near to-night. The band stopped playing. 
 Barker made his grandiloquent announcement 
 about the wonderful act about to be seen, and her 
 eyes wandered to the distant church steeple. 
 The moonlight seemed to shun it to-night. It 
 looked cold and grim and dark. She wondered 
 whether the solemn bell that once called its flock 
 to worship had become as mute as her own dead 
 heart. She did not hear the whirr of the great 
 machine inside the tent, as it plunged through 
 space with its girl occupant. These things were 
 a part of the daily routine, part of the strange, 
 vague dream through which she must stumble for 
 the rest of her life. 
 
 Jim watched her in silence. Her face was 
 turned from him. She had forgotten his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 "Star gazin', Poll?" he asked at length, dread- 
 ing to disturb her revery. 
 
 "I guess I was, Jim." She turned to him with
 
 Polly of the Circus 155 
 
 a little, forced smile. He longed to sare her 
 from Barker's threatened rebuke. 
 
 "How yer feelin' to-night?" 
 
 "I'm all right," she answered, cheerfully 
 
 "Any thin' yer want?" 
 
 "Want?" she turned upon him with startled 
 eyes. There was so much that she wanted, that 
 the mere mention of the word had opened a well 
 of pain in her heart. 
 
 "I mean, can I do anythin' for you?" 
 
 "Oh, of course not." She remembered how lit- 
 tle any one could do. 
 
 "What is it, Poll?" he begged; but she only 
 turned away and shook her head with a sigh. He 
 followed her with anxious eyes. "What made 
 yer cut out the show to-day? Was it because 
 you didn't want ter ride afore folks what knowed 
 yer? Ride afore him, mebbe?" 
 
 "Him?" Her face was white. Jim feared she 
 might swoon. "You don't mean that he was " 
 
 "Oh, no," he answered, quickly, "of course not. 
 Parsons don't come to places like this one. I 
 was only figurin' that yer didn't want other folks 
 to see yer and to tell him how you was ridin'." 
 She did not answer.
 
 356 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Was that it, Poll?" he urged. 
 
 "I don't know." She stared into space. 
 
 "Was it?" 
 
 "I guess it was," she said, after a long time. 
 
 "I knowed it," he cried. "I was a fool to 
 a-brung you back. Yer don't belong with us no 
 more." 
 
 "Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel 
 I'm in the way here, too !" 
 
 "Here, too?" He looked at her in astonish- 
 ment. "Yer wasn't in Ms way, was yer, Poll?" 
 
 "Yes, Jim." She saw his look of unbelief and 
 continued hurriedly. "Oh, I tried not to be. I 
 tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of 
 a Bible about my way being his way and my 
 people his people, but it isn't so, Jim. Your 
 way is the way you are born, and your people 
 are the people you are born with, and you 
 can't change it, Jim, no matter how hard you 
 try." 
 
 "You was changin' it," he answered, savagely. 
 "You was gettin' jes' like them people. It was 
 me what took yer away and spoiled it all. You 
 oughtn't to a come. What made yer, after yer 
 said yer wouldn't?"
 
 Polly of the Circus 157 
 
 She did not answer. Strange things were go- 
 ing through the mind of the slow-witted 
 Jim. He braced himself for a difficult 
 question. 
 
 "Will yer answer me somethin' straight?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Why, of course," she said as she met his 
 gaze. 
 
 "Do you love the parson, Poll?" 
 
 She started. 
 
 "Is that it?" 
 
 Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her 
 breath quickly, her lips apart, then looked far 
 into the distance. 
 
 "Yes, Jim, I'm afraid that's it." The little 
 figure drooped, and she stood before him 
 with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked 
 at her helplessly, then shook his big, stupid 
 head. 
 
 "Ain't that hell?" 
 
 It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had 
 picked her up, a cooing babe, at her dead 
 mother's side. He watched the tender, averted 
 face. Things had turned out so differently from 
 what he had planned.
 
 158 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "And he didn't care about you like that?" he 
 asked, after a pause. 
 
 "No, not in that way." She was anxious to de- 
 fend the pastor from even the thought of such a 
 thing. "He was good and kind always, but he 
 didn't care that way. He's not like that." 
 
 "I guess I'll have a talk with him," said Jim, 
 and he turned to go. 
 
 "Talk !" she cried. 
 
 He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. 
 It was the first time that he had ever heard that 
 sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was 
 stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing. 
 
 "If you ever dare to speak to him about me, 
 you'll never see me again." 
 
 Jim was perplexed. 
 
 "I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've 
 come back to you. If you ever try to fix up 
 things between him and me, I'll run away really 
 and truly away and you'll never, never get me 
 back." 
 
 He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached 
 apologetically for the little, clenched fist. He 
 held it in his big, rough hand, toying nervously 
 with the tiny fingers.
 
 Polly of the Circus 159 
 
 "I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin% 
 Poll. I was just a try in' to help yer, only I I 
 never seem to know how." 
 
 She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and 
 rested her hands on his great, broad shoulders, 
 and he saw the place where he dwelt in her heart.
 
 Chapter XIV 
 
 THE "Leap of Death" implements were being 
 carried from the ring, and Jim turned away to 
 superintend their loading. 
 
 Performers again rushed by each other on their 
 way to and from the main tent. 
 
 Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning 
 and anxious. The mere mention of the pastor's 
 name had made it seem impossible for her to ride 
 to-night. For hours she had been whipping 
 herself up to the point of doing it, and now her 
 courage failed her. She followed Barker as he 
 came from the ring. 
 
 "Mr. Barker, please!" 
 
 He turned upon her sharply. 
 
 "Well, what is it now?" 
 
 "I want to ask you to let me off again to- 
 night." She spoke in a short, jerky, desperate 
 way. 
 
 "What?" he shrieked. "Not go into the ring, 
 with all them people inside what's paid their 
 money a-cause they knowed yer?"
 
 Polly of the Circus 161 
 
 "That's it," she cried. "I can't 1 I can't!" 
 
 "Yer gettin' too tony!" Barker sneered. 
 "That's the trouble with you. You ain't been 
 good for nothin' since you was at that parson's 
 house. Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use 
 here. First thing yer know yer'll be out all 
 'round." 
 
 "Out?" 
 
 "Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my 
 bill with a 'dead one,' do you?" 
 
 "I am not a 'dead one,' " she answered, ex- 
 citedly. "I'm the best rider you've had since 
 mother died. You've said so yourself." 
 
 'That was afore yer got in with them church 
 cranks. You talk about yer mother! Why, 
 she'd be ashamed ter own yer." 
 
 "She wouldn't," cried Polly. Her eyes' were 
 flashing, her face was scarlet. The pride of 
 hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with 
 indignation. "I can ride as well as I ever could, 
 and I'll do it, too. I'll do it to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow?" echoed Barker. "What do you 
 mean by that?" 
 
 "I mean that I can't go into that ring to- 
 night," she declared, "and I won't."
 
 162 Polly of the Circus 
 
 She was desperate now, and trading upon a 
 strength beyond her own. 
 
 He looked at her with momentary indecision. 
 She was a good rider the best since her mother, 
 as he had often told her. He could see this 
 meant an issue. He felt she would be on her 
 mettle to-morrow, as far as her work was con- 
 cerned, if he left her alone to-night. 
 
 "All right," he said, sullenly. "Yer can stay 
 off to-night. I got the crowd in there, anyway, 
 and I got their money. I'll let Eloise do a turn 
 on Barbarian, but to-morrow you'd better show 
 me your old act." 
 
 "I'll show you!" she cried. "I'll show you!" 
 
 "Well, see that you do." He crossed into the 
 ring. 
 
 Polly stood where Barker had left her, white 
 and tense. Jim came toward her from the direc- 
 tion of the wagons. He glanced at her uneasily. 
 "What's he been a-sayin' ter you?" 
 
 "He says I can't ride any more." Her lips 
 closed tightly. She stared straight ahead of her. 
 "He says I was no good to the people that took 
 me in, and I'm no use here." 
 
 "It's not so !" thundered Jim.
 
 Polly of the Circus 163 
 
 "No ; it's not !" she cried. "I'll show him, Jim ! 
 I'll show him to-morrow !" She turned toward 
 the dressing tent ; Jim caught her firmly by the 
 wrist. 
 
 "Wait, Poll ! You ain't ever goin' into the ring 
 a-feelin' that way." Her eyes met his, defiantly. 
 
 "What's the difference? What's the differ- 
 ence?" She wrenched her wrist quickly from 
 him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing 
 hysterically. 
 
 "And I brung her back to it," mumbled Jim as 
 he turned to give orders to the property men. 
 
 Most of the "first-half props" were loaded, and 
 some of the men were asleep under the wagons. 
 The lot was clear. Suddenly he felt some one 
 approaching from the back of the enclosure. 
 He turned and found himself face to face with 
 the stern, solitary figure of the pastor, wrapped 
 in his long, black cloak. The moonlight slipped 
 through a rift in the clouds, and fell in a circle 
 around them. 
 
 "What made you come here ?" was all Jim said. 
 
 "I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I 
 was afraid she might be ill." 
 
 "What's that to you?"
 
 164 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "She isn't ill?" Douglas demanded anxiously, 
 oblivious to the gruffness in the big fellow's voice. 
 
 "She's all right," Jim answered shortly as he 
 shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and 
 avoided the pastor's burning gaze. 
 
 "And she's happy? she's content?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "I'm glad," said Douglas, dully. He tried to 
 think of some way to prolong their talk. "I've 
 never heard from her, you know." 
 
 "Us folks don't get much time to write." Jim 
 turned away and began tinkering with one of 
 the wagons. 
 
 Douglas had walked up and down in front of 
 the tents again and again, fighting against P 
 desire to do the very thing that he was doing.- 
 but to no purpose, and now that he was here, 
 it seemed impossible that he should go away so 
 unsatisfied. He crossed to Jim and came de- 
 terminedly to the point. 
 
 "Can't I see her, Jim?" 
 
 "It's agin the rules." He did not turn. 
 
 There was another pause, then Douglas started 
 slowly out of the lot. 
 
 "Wait a minute," called Jim, as though the
 
 Polly of the Circus 165 
 
 words had been wrung from him. The pastor 
 came back with a question in his eyes. 
 
 "I lied to you." 
 
 "She's not well, then?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that ; it's 
 about her being happy." 
 
 "She isn't?" There was a note of unconscious 
 exultation in his voice. 
 
 "No. She ain't happy here, and she was happy 
 Kith you" 
 
 "Then, why did she leave me?" 
 
 "I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at 
 first. Somethin' must a-happened afterwards, 
 somethin' that you an' me didn't know about." 
 
 "We will know about it, Jim. Where is she?" 
 His quick 63^6 searched the lot. His voice had 
 
 regained it's old command. He felt that he could 
 
 ' 
 conquer worlds. 
 
 "You can't do no good that way," answered 
 Jim. "She don't want ter see you again." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I don't know, but she told me she'd run away 
 if I ever even talked to you about her." 
 
 "You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. 
 Where is she?"
 
 166 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait 
 around out here with me. I'll let you know in 
 time." He led the way through a narrow pas- 
 sage between the wagons. 
 
 Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when 
 Deacon Elverson's small, round head slipped 
 cautiously around the corner of the dressing 
 tent. The little deacon glanced exultantly 
 about him. He was monarch of all he sur- 
 veyed. It was very thrilling to stand here, 
 on this forbidden ground, smelling the saw- 
 dust, gazing at the big red wagons, study- 
 ing the unprotected circus properties, and 
 listening to the lightening tempo of the 
 band. 
 
 "Did you see him?" shouted Strong, who had 
 followed closely upon Elverson's heels. 
 
 The little deacon started. Strong was cer- 
 tainly a disturbing factor at times. 
 
 "Yes, I I saw him." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "He he didn't see her." 
 
 "What did he do?" Strong was beside himself 
 with impatience. 
 
 "He he just talked to the big 'un, and went
 
 Polly of the Circus 167 
 
 out that way." Elverson nodded toward the 
 wagons. 
 
 "I guess he ain't gone far," sneered Strong. 
 "He come over to this lot to see her, and he ain't 
 goin' ter give up till he does it. You wait here ; 
 I'll take a look round." He went quickly in the 
 direction of the wagons. 
 
 Elverson needed no second invitation to wait. 
 He was congratulating himself upon his good 
 fortune, when he all but collided with a flying 
 apparition, vanishing in the direction of the 
 main tent. Sophisticated eyes would have 
 seen only a rather stout acrobat clad in pink 
 tights ; but Elverson was not sophisticated, 
 and he teetered after the flitting angel, 
 even unto the forbidden portals of the "big 
 top." 
 
 He was peeping through the curtains which 
 had fallen behind her, and was getting his first 
 glimpse of the great, sawdust world beyond, 
 when one of the clowns dashed from the dressing 
 tent on his way to the ring. 
 
 The clown was late. He saw the limp coat tails 
 of the deacon, who was three-quarters in the 
 tent. Here was a chance to make a funny en-
 
 168 Polly of the Circus 
 
 trance. Pie grabbed the unsuspecting little man 
 from the rear. The terrified deacon struck out 
 blindly in all directions, his black arms and legs 
 moving like centipeds, but the clown held him 
 firmly by the back and thrust him, head fore- 
 most, into the tent. 
 
 Strong returned almost immediately from his 
 unsuccessful search for the pastor. He looked 
 about the lot for Elverson. 
 
 "He}', there, Elverson !" he called lustily. 
 There was no response. 
 
 "Now where's he got to," grumbled Strong. 
 He disappeared quickly around the corner of the 
 dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp lookout 
 for Douglas. 
 
 Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, 
 spitting sawdust and much discomfited by the 
 laughing performers who followed him. His 
 knees almost gave way beneath him when Barker 
 came out of the ring, snapping his long, black 
 whip. 
 
 "Get out of here, you bloke !" roared Barker, 
 and Elverson "got." 
 
 No one had remembered to tell the groom that 
 Polly was not to ride to-night. So Bingo was
 
 Polly of the Circus 169 
 
 brought out as usual, when their "turn" ap- 
 proached. 
 
 "Take him back, Tom," Polly called from the 
 entrance, when she learned that Bingo was wait- 
 ing, "and bring Barbarian. I'm not going on 
 to-night. Eloise is going to ride in my place." 
 
 This was the second time to-day that Bingo had 
 been led away without going into the ring. 
 Something in his big, wondering eyes made Polly 
 follow him and apologise. He was very proud, 
 was Bingo, and very conscientious. He felt un- 
 easy when he saw the other horses going to their 
 work without him. 
 
 "Never mind, Bingo," she said, patting his 
 great, arched neck, "we'll show 'em to-morrow." 
 He rubbed his satiny nose against her cheek. 
 "We'll make them sit up again. Barker says 
 our act's no good that Pve let down. But it's 
 not your fault, Bingo. I've not been fair to 
 you. I'll give you a chance to-morrow. You 
 wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo ! Never 
 again !" She watched him go out of the lot, and 
 laughed a little as he nipped the attendant on 
 the arm. He was still irritated at not going into 
 the ring.
 
 170 Polly of the Circus 
 
 Polly had nothing more to do to-night except 
 to get into her street clothes. The wagons would 
 soon be moving away. For a moment she glanced 
 at the dark church steeple, then she turned to 
 go inside the tent. A deep, familiar voice 
 stopped her. 
 
 "Polly !" 
 
 She turned quickly. She could not answer. 
 Douglas came toward her. He gazed at her in 
 amazement. She drew her cape about her slightly 
 clad figure. She seemed older to him, more un- 
 approachable with her hair heaped high and 
 sparkling with jewels. Her bodice of satin and 
 lace shimmered through the opening of her cape. 
 The moonlight lent mystery and indecision to 
 her betinselled attire. The band was playing the 
 andante for the balancing act. 
 
 She found strength at last to open her lips, but 
 still no sound came from them. She and the 
 pastor looked at each other strangely, like spirits 
 newly met from far-apart worlds. She, too. 
 thought her companion changed. He was older, 
 the circles beneath his eyes were deeper, the look 
 in their depths more grave. 
 
 "We were such close neighbours to-day, I I
 
 Polly of the Circus 171 
 
 rather thought you'd call," he stammered. He 
 was uncertain what he was saying it did not 
 matter he was there with her. 
 
 "When you're in a circus there isn't much time 
 for calling." 
 
 "That's why I've come to call on you." They 
 might have been sheppherd and sheppherdess on 
 a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which 
 their words came. 
 
 "You're all right?" he went on. "You're 
 happy?" 
 
 "Yes, very," she said. Her eyes were down- 
 cast. 
 
 He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, 
 her drawn, white face belied her words. How 
 could he get the truth from her? 
 
 "Jim said you might not want to see 
 me." 
 
 She started. 
 
 "Has Jim been talking to you?" 
 
 "Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told 
 me the day you left that you'd never change 
 toward me. Have you, Poll?" He studied her, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Why, no, of course not," she said, evasively.
 
 172 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "And you'll be quite frank when I ask you 
 something?" 
 
 "Yes, of course." She was growing more and 
 more uneasy. She glanced about for a way of 
 escape. 
 
 "Why did you leave me as you did?" 
 
 "I told you then." She tried to cross toward 
 the dressing tent. 
 
 He stepped quickly in front of her. 
 
 "You aren't answering frankly, and you aren't 
 happy." 
 
 She was growing desperate. She felt she must 
 get away, anywhere, anywhere. 
 
 He seized her small wrists and forced her to 
 look at him. 
 
 "And / am not happy without you, and I 
 never, never can be." The floodgates were open, 
 his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't," she begged. "You 
 mustn't" 
 
 "You've grown so close," he cried. "So close !" 
 She struggled to be free. He did not heed her. 
 "You know you must know what I mean." He 
 drew her toward him and forced her into his
 
 Polly of the Circus 173 
 
 arms. "You're more precious to me than all 
 else on this earth." 
 
 For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on 
 i her face. He felt her growing limp and lifeless 
 in his arms. A doubt crossed his mind. "If I 
 am wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you 
 honestly care for all this," he glanced about at 
 the tents, "more than for any life that I can give 
 you, I shan't interfere. You'll be going on your 
 way in an hour. I'll say good-bye and God bless 
 you ; but if you do care for me, Polly," he 
 was pleading now, "if you're not happy here 
 won't you come back to me? Won't you, 
 Polly?" 
 
 She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send 
 him away. She stood irresolute. The voice of 
 Deacon Strong answered for her. 
 
 "So ! You're here, are you ?" 
 
 "Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here," answered the 
 pastor, as he turned to meet the accusing eyes of 
 the deacon, who had come quickly from behind 
 the dressing tent. 
 
 "As for you, miss," continued Strong, with an 
 insolent nod toward Polly, "I might have known 
 how you'd keep your part of the bargain."
 
 174 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Bargain?" echoed Douglas. "What bar- 
 gain ?" 
 
 "Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't 
 mean to see him, I didn't, truly." She hardly 
 knew what she was saying. 
 
 "What bargain?" demanded Douglas sternly. 
 
 "She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' 
 ter see each other agin," roared Strong. "If 
 I'd a-knowed she was goin' to keep on with this 
 kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so easy." 
 
 "So! That's it!" cried Douglas. It was all 
 clear to him now. He recalled everything, her 
 hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her tears. "It 
 was you who drove that child back to this." He 
 glanced at Polly. The narrow shoulders were 
 bent forward. The nervous little fingers were 
 clasping and unclasping each other. Never be- 
 fore had she seemed so small and helpless. 
 
 "Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make 
 him any worse!" 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. 
 
 "It would have done no good," she sobbed. "Oh, 
 why why won't you leave me alone?" 
 
 "It would have done all the good in the world. 
 What right had he to send you back to this?"
 
 Polly of the Circus 175 
 
 "I had every right," said Strong, stubbornly. 
 
 "What?" cried Douglas. 
 
 "It was my duty." 
 
 "Your duty ? Your narrow-minded bigotry !" 
 
 "I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, 
 not even my parson." 
 
 "I'm not your parson any longer," declared 
 Douglas. He faced Strong squarely. He was 
 master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to 
 him, begging and beseeching. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!" 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" shouted Strong. 
 
 "I mean that I stayed with you and your nar- 
 row-minded congregation before, because I be- 
 lieved you needed me. But now this girl needs 
 me more. She needs me to protect her from just 
 such injustice as yours." 
 
 "You'd better be protectin' yourself. That's 
 my advice to you." 
 
 "I can do that -without your advice." 
 
 "Ma} r be you can find another church with that 
 circus ridin' girl a-hangin' 'round your neck." 
 
 "He's right," cried Polly. "You couldn't." 
 She clung to the pastor in terrified entreaty. 
 "You couldn't get another church. They'd
 
 176 Polly of the Circus 
 
 never, never forgive you. It's no use. You've 
 got to let me go ! you've got to !" 
 
 "Listen, Polly." He drew her toward him. 
 "God is greater than any church or creed. 
 There's work to be done everywhere His work." 
 
 "You'll soon find out about that," thundered 
 Strong. 
 
 "So I will," answered Douglas, with his head 
 thrown high. "This child has opened a new world 
 to me; she has shown me a broader, deeper hu- 
 manity ; she and I will find the way together." 
 
 "It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that." 
 Strong turned to go. 
 
 "I'm not looking for the easy way !" Douglas 
 called after him, then he turned to draw Polly's 
 arm within his ; but Polly had slipped from his 
 side to follow the deacon. 
 
 "Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please !" she 
 pleaded. "You won't go away like that. He'll 
 be all right if you'll only wait. I'm not coming 
 back. I'm not honestly. I'm going on with 
 the show, to-night, and I'm going this time 
 forever" 
 
 "You are going to stay here with me," cried 
 Douglas.
 
 Polly of the Circus 177 
 
 "No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, 
 and I won't be to blame for your unhappiness." 
 She faced him firmly now. "I don't belong to 
 your world, and I don't want to try any more. 
 I'm what he called me I'm a circus riding girl. 
 I was born in the circus, and I'll never change. 
 That's my work riding, and it's yours to 
 preach. You must do your work, and I'll do 
 mine." 
 
 She started toward the ring. Eloise and Bar- 
 barian were already waiting at the entrance. 
 
 "Eloise !" She took one step toward her, then 
 stopped at the sound of Barker's voice. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he called. "Although 
 we are obliged to announce that our star rider, 
 Miss Polly, will not appear to-night, we offer you 
 in her place an able substitute, Mademoiselle 
 Eloise, on her black, untamed horse, Barbarian." 
 
 Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to 
 mount 
 
 "No ! No !" cried Polly. 
 
 The other girl turned in astonishment at the 
 agony in her voice. 
 
 "Polly !" 
 
 "Wait, Eloise ! I'm going to ride !"
 
 178 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "You can't, not Barbarian ! He don't know 
 your turn." 
 
 "So much the better!" She seized the bridle 
 from the frightened girl's hand. 
 
 "Polly!" shouted Douglas. He had followed 
 her to the entrance. 
 
 "I must! I will!" 
 
 She flew into the ring before he could stop her. 
 He took one step to follow her. 
 
 "You'd better let her alone and get out o' here," 
 said Strong. His voice was like a firebrand to 
 Douglas. He turned upon him, white with rage. 
 
 "You drove her to this." His fists were 
 clenched. He drew back to strike. 
 
 Jim came from behind the wagons just in time 
 to catch the uplifted arm. 
 
 "Leave him to me, this ain't no parson's job." 
 The pastor lowered his arm, but kept his threat- 
 ening eyes on the deacon's face. 
 
 "Where's Poll?" asked Jim. 
 
 "In there! Douglas pointed toward the main 
 tent without turning his head. He was still glar- 
 ing at the deacon, and breathing hard. 
 
 "What?" cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about 
 and saw Eloise. He guessed the truth. A few
 
 Polly of the Circus 179 
 
 quick strides brought him to the entrance cur- 
 tains. He threw them back and looked into the 
 ring. 
 
 "My God! Why don't Barker stop her?" 
 
 "What is it?" called Douglas. He forgot the 
 deacon in his terror at Jim's behaviour, and 
 Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed. 
 
 "She's goin' ter ride ! She's goin' ter ride Bar- 
 barian !" 
 
 Douglas crossed to his side and looked. 
 
 Polly was springing onto the back of Bar- 
 barian. He was a poorly trained horse, used by 
 the other girl for more showy, but less dangerous 
 feats than Polly's. 
 
 "She's goin' through her regular turn with 
 him; she's tryin' ter break her neck," said Jim. 
 "She wants ter do it. It's your fault !" he cried, 
 turning upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes. 
 He was half insane, he cared little whom 
 he wounded. 
 
 "Why can't we stop her?" cried Douglas, un- 
 able to endure the strain. He took one step in- 
 side the entrance. 
 
 "No, no; not that!" Jim dragged him back 
 roughly. "If she sees you now, it will be the
 
 180 Polly of the Circus 
 
 end." They watched in silence. "She's over the 
 first part," Jim whispered, at last. 
 
 Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he 
 watched the scene inside the ring. Eloise stood 
 at the pastor's side, horror-stricken at Polly's 
 reckless behaviour. She knew Barbarian. It 
 was easy to guess the end. 
 
 "She's comin' to the hoops," Jim whispered, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 "Barbarian don't know that part, I never 
 trained him," the other girl said. 
 
 Polly made the first leap toward the hoops. The 
 horse was not at fault ; it was Polly. She 
 plunged wildly, the audience started. She caught 
 her footing with an effort. One, two, three hoops 
 were passed. She threw herself across the back 
 of the horse and hung, head downward, as he 
 galloped around the ring. The band was play- 
 ing loudly, the people were cheering. She rose 
 to meet the last two hoops. 
 
 "She's swayin'," Jim shrieked in agony. "She's 
 goin' to fall. He covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side. She 
 mounted and fell again. She rose and staggered 
 in pursuit.
 
 Polly of the Circus 181 
 
 "I can't bear it," groaned Douglas. He rushed 
 into the ring, unconscious of the thousands of 
 eyes bent upon his black, ministerial garb, and 
 caught the slip of a girl in his arms just as she 
 was about to sink fainting beneath the horse's 
 hoofs. 
 
 Barker brought the performance to a halt with 
 a crack of his whip. The audience stood on tip- 
 toe. White-faced clowns and gaily attired acro- 
 bats crowded around Polly and the pastor. 
 
 Douglas did not see them. He had come into 
 his own. 
 
 "He's bringin' her out," whispered Eloise, who 
 still watched at the entrance. Jim dared not 
 look up, his head was still in his hands. 
 
 "Is it over?" he groaned. 
 
 "I don't know. I can't tell yet." She stepped 
 aside as Douglas came out of the tent, followed 
 by a swarm of performers. He knelt on the soft 
 grass and rested Polly's head upon his knee. The 
 others pressed about them. It seemed to Douglas 
 that he waited hours ; then her white lids quivered 
 and opened and the colour crept back to her 
 lips. 
 
 "It's all right, Jim !" called one of the men from
 
 182 Polly of the Circus 
 
 the crowd. "She's only fainted." The big fel- 
 low had waited in his tracks for the verdict. 
 
 Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson 
 a thrill shot through his veins. 
 
 "It was no use, was it?" She shook her head 
 with a sad little smile. He knew that she 
 was thinking of her failure to get out of his 
 way. 
 
 "That's because I need you so much, Polly, that 
 God won't let you go away from me." He drew 
 her nearer to him, and the warm blood that shot 
 to her cheeks brought back her strength. She 
 rose unsteadily, and looked about her. Jim came 
 toward her, white and trembling. 
 
 "All right, Poll?" 
 
 "Oh, Muvver Jim !" She threw herself into his 
 arms and clung to him, sobbing weakly. 
 
 No one could ever remember just how the audi- 
 ence left the big top that night, and even Barker 
 had no clear idea of how Jim took down the tents, 
 loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan 
 on its way. 
 
 When the last wagon was beginning to climb 
 the long, winding road of the moon-lit hill, Jim 
 turned to Polly, who stood near the side of the
 
 
 "Whither thou gocst, will I go, where thou 
 diest, will I die."
 
 Polly of the Circus 183 
 
 deserted ring. His eyes travelled from her to 
 the parson, who waited near her. She was in her 
 street clothes now, the little brown Quakerish 
 dress which she had chosen to wear so much since 
 her return from the parsonage. 
 
 "I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this 
 time," he said, and he placed her hand in that of 
 the parson. 
 
 "Good-bye, Muvver Jim," faltered Polly. 
 
 He stooped and touched her forehead with his 
 lips. A mother's spirit breathed through his 
 kiss. 
 
 "I'm glad it's like this," he said, then turned 
 away and followed the long, dotted line of 
 winding lights disappearing slowly over the 
 hill. 
 
 Her eyes travelled after him. 
 
 Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side. 
 
 "I belong with them," she said, still gazing 
 after Jim and the wagons. 
 
 "You belong with me," he answered in a firm, 
 grave voice, and something in the deep, sure tones 
 told her that he was speaking the truth. She 
 lifted one trembling hand to his shoulder, and 
 looked up into his face.
 
 184 Polly of the Circus 
 
 "Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou 
 diest, will I die." 
 
 He drew her into his arms. 
 
 "The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught 
 but death part thee and me." 
 
 THE END
 
 BABY MINE
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 Published, October, 1911
 
 To my Helper and Husband
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EVEN in college Alfred Hardy was a young 
 man of fixed ideas and high ideals and proud of it. 
 
 His friend, Jimmy Jinks, had few ideas and no 
 ideals, and was glad of it, and before half of their 
 first college term had passed, Jimmy had ridded 
 himself of all such worries as making up his own 
 mind or directing his own morals. Alfred did all 
 these things so much better, argued Jimmy, fur- 
 thermore, Alfred liked to do them Jimmy owed 
 it to his friend to give him that pleasure. 
 
 The fact that Jimmy was several years Alfred's 
 senior and twice his size, in no way altered his 
 opinion of Alfred's judgment, and through their 
 entire college course they agreed as one man in 
 all their discussions or rather in all Alfred's 
 discussions. 
 
 But it was not until the close of their senior 
 year that Alfred favoured Jimmy with his views 
 on matrimony. 
 
 Sitting alone in a secluded corner of the cam- 
 pus waiting for Alfred to solve a problem in 
 higher mathematics, Jimmy now recalled frag- 
 ments of Alfred's last conversation. 
 
 " No twelve dollar shoes and forty doPar hats 
 for my wife," his young friend had raged and he 
 
 1
 
 2 Baby Mine 
 
 condemned to Jimmy the wicked extravagance of 
 his own younger sisters. " The woman who gets 
 me must be a home-maker. I'll take her to the 
 theatre occasionally, and now and then we'll have 
 a few friends in for the evening; but the fireside 
 must be her magnet, and I'll be right by her side 
 each night with my books and my day's worries. 
 She shall be taken into my confidence completely ; 
 and I'll take good care to let her know, before I 
 marry her, just what I expect in return." 
 
 " Alfred certainly has the right idea about 
 marriage," mused Jimmy, as the toe of his boot 
 shoved the gravel up and down the path. 
 " There's just one impractical feature about it." 
 He was conscious of a slight feeling of heresy 
 when he admitted even one flaw in his friend's 
 scheme of things. " Where is Alfred to find such 
 a wife? " 
 
 Jimmy ran through the list of unattached girls 
 to whom Alfred had thus far presented him. It 
 was no doubt due to his lack of imagination, but 
 try as he would, he could not see any one of these 
 girls sitting by the fireside listening to Alfred's 
 " worries " for four or five nights each week. He 
 recalled all the married women whom he had been 
 obliged, through no fault of his own, to observe. 
 
 True, all of them did not boast twelve dollar 
 shoes or forty dollar hats for the very simple 
 reason that the incomes or the tempers of their 
 husbands did not permit of it. In any case, Jimmy
 
 Baby Mine 3 
 
 did not remember having seen them spend many 
 evenings by the fireside. Where then was Alfred 
 to find the exceptional creature who was to help 
 " systematise his life "? Jimmy was not above 
 hoping that Alfred's search might be a long one. 
 He was content for his friend to go jogging along 
 by his side, theorising about marriage and talcing 
 no chances with facts. Having come to this con- 
 clusion, he began to feel uneasy at Alfred's non- 
 appearance. Alfred had promised to meet him 
 on this spot at four-thirty, and Alfred had de- 
 cided ideas about punctuality. It was now five- 
 thirty. Ought Jimmy to look for him, or would 
 he be wiser to remain comfortably seated and to 
 try to digest another of his friend's theories? 
 
 While Jimmy was trying to decide this vexed 
 question, his ear caught the sound of a girlish 
 titter. Turning in embarrassment toward a se- 
 cluded path just behind him, whom did he see 
 coming toward him but Alfred, with what ap- 
 peared to be a bunch of daffodils ; but as Alfred 
 drew nearer, Jimmy began to perceive at his elbow 
 a large flower-trimmed hat, and " horrors ! " 
 beneath it, with a great deal of filmy white and 
 yellow floating from it, was a small pink and white 
 face. 
 
 Barely had Jimmy reversed himself and rear- 
 ranged his round, astonished features, when Al- 
 fred, beaming and buoyant, brought the bundle of 
 fluff to a full stop before him.
 
 4 Baby Mine 
 
 " Sorry to be late, old chap," said Alfred. " I 
 have brought my excuse with me. I want you 
 to know Miss Merton." Then turning to the 
 small creature, whose head peeped just above his 
 elbow, Alfred explained to her graciously that 
 Jimmy Jinks was his very best friend, present 
 company excepted, of course, and added that 
 she and Jimmy would no doubt " see a great deal 
 of each other in the future." 
 
 In his embarrassment, Jimmy's eyes went 
 straight to the young lady's shoes. It was pos- 
 sible that there might be more expensive shoes in 
 this world, but Jimmy had certainly never seen 
 daintier. 
 
 " I hope we didn't disturb you," a small voice 
 was chirping; and innocent and conventional as 
 the remark surely was, Jimmy was certain of an 
 undercurrent of mischief in it. He glanced up to 
 protest, but two baby-blue eyes fixed upon him in 
 apparent wonderment, made him certain that any- 
 thing he could say would seem rude or ridiculous ; 
 so, as usual when in a plight, he looked to Alfred 
 for the answer. 
 
 Slapping Jimmy upon the shoulder in a conde- 
 scending spirit, Alfred suggested that they all sit 
 down and have a chat. 
 
 " Oh, how nice," chirped the small person. 
 
 Jimmy felt an irresistible desire to run, but 
 the picture of himself, in his very stout person, 
 streaking across the campus to the giggled de-
 
 Baby Mine 5 
 
 light of Miss Fluff, soon brought him submissively 
 to the seat, where he sat twiddling his straw hat 
 between his fingers, and glancing uncertainty at 
 Alfred, who was thoughtful enough to sit next 
 him. 
 
 " Goodness, one could almost dance out here, 
 couldn't one? " said the small person, named Zoie, 
 as her eyes roved over the bit of level green before 
 them. 
 
 " Would you like to try? " asked Alfred, ap- 
 parently agreeable to her every caprice. 
 
 " I'd love it !" cried Zoie. " Come along." She 
 sprang up and held out her hands to him. 
 
 " I'm going to be unselfish," answered Alfred, 
 " and let Jimmy have that fun." 
 
 By this time, Jimmy had been seized with an 
 intuitive feeling that his friend was in immediate 
 danger. 
 
 " Was this the young woman who was to sit 
 opposite the fireside five nights a week and syste- 
 matise Alfred's life? " 
 
 Jimmy stared at the intruder blankly. For 
 answer, two small hands were thrust out to- 
 ward him and an impatient little voice was com- 
 manding him to " Come, dance." He heard Al- 
 fred's laughter. He had no intention of accom- 
 modating the small person in this or any other 
 matter, yet, before he realised quite how it had 
 happened, he was two-stepping up and down the 
 grass to her piping little voice; nor did she re-
 
 6 Baby Mine 
 
 lease him until the perspiration came rolling from 
 his forehead; and, horror of horrors, his one-time 
 friend, Alfred, seemed to find this amusing, and 
 laughed louder and louder when Jimmy sank by 
 his side exhausted. 
 
 When Jimmy was again able to think consecu- 
 tively, he concluded that considerable conversa- 
 tion must have taken place between Alfred and the 
 small one, while he was recovering his breath and 
 re-adjusting his wilted neckwear. He was now 
 thrown into a fresh panic by an exclamation from 
 the excitable Zoie. 
 
 " You must both meet my friend, Aggie Dar- 
 ling," she was saying. " I am bringing her with 
 me to the hop to-night. She is not at all like me. 
 You will like her dreadfully." She smiled at 
 Jimmy as though she were conferring a great fa- 
 vour upon him. 
 
 " Like her dreadfully," commented Jimmy 
 to himself. "It was just the kind of expression 
 one might expect from a mind in such dis- 
 order as hers. * Systematise Alfred's life,' in- 
 deed!" 
 
 There was more nonsensical chatter, or so it 
 seemed to Jimmy, then Zoie and Alfred rose to go, 
 and Jimmy was told by both of them that he was 
 to put in an appearance at the Fraternity " hop " 
 that night. 
 
 " I'll see you at dinner," called Alfred gaily over 
 .his shoulder and Jimmy was left to grapple with
 
 Baby Mine 7 
 
 his first disappointment at his friend's lack of 
 discrimination. 
 
 " It's her fault," concluded Jimmy, as he lifted 
 himself heavily off the bench and started down the 
 campus, resolved to console himself with food.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Now Jimmy had no intention of going to the 
 " hop." He had tried to tell Alfred so a dozen 
 times during dinner, but each time he had been 
 interrupted by one of Alfred's enthusiastic rhap- 
 sodies about Zoie. 
 
 " Most marvellous girl I have ever met ! " ex- 
 claimed Alfred over his soup. " So sensible ; so 
 modest. And did you see how simply she 
 dresses?" he asked. Jimmy recalled his jfirst 
 vision of billowy fluff; but before he could answer, 
 Alfred had continued excitedly: 
 
 " I'll tell } r ou what first attracted me toward 
 her." He looked at Jimmy as though he expected 
 some especial mark of gratitude for the favour 
 about to be bestowed; then he explained with a 
 serious weighing of his words, " It was her love of 
 children. I had barely been introduced to her 
 when she turned her back upon me and gave her 
 whole attention to Professor Peck's little boy 
 Willie. I said to myself, * any girl of that age 
 who prefers children to young chaps of my age, 
 is the girl for me.' ' 
 
 " I see," assented Jimmy lamely. It was his 
 first remark during dinner.
 
 Baby Mine 9 
 
 " After that, I no longer hesitated. You know, 
 Jimmy, I have decision." 
 
 " Yes, I have noticed," admitted Jimmy, with- 
 out conviction. 
 
 " In fifteen minutes," said Alfred, " I had 
 learned all about the young lady's antecedents." 
 
 Having finished his soup, and resisted a child- 
 ish impulse to tip the plate and scrape the bot- 
 tom of it, Jimmy was now looking anxiously to- 
 ward the door through which the roast ought to 
 come. 
 
 " I'll tell you all about her," volunteered Al- 
 fred. But Jimmy's eyes were upon Alfred's plate ; 
 his friend had not yet devoured more than two 
 spoonfuls of soup; at that rate, argued Jimmy, 
 the roast would reach them about the time that 
 he was usually trying to make his dessert last as 
 long as possible. 
 
 " She is here with her aunt," continued Alfred. 
 " They are on a short visit to Professor Peck." 
 
 Jimmy approved of the " short." 
 
 " That's good," he murmured, hopeful that a 
 separation from the minx night restore his 
 friend's reason. 
 
 " And Jimmy," exclaimed Alfred with glisten- 
 ing eyes, " what do you think? " 
 
 Jimmy thought a great deal but he forebore 
 to say it, and Alfred continued very enthusias- 
 tically. 
 
 " She lives right in the same town with us."
 
 10 Baby Mine 
 
 "What!" ejaculated Jimmy, and he felt his 
 appetite going. 
 
 " Within a stone's throw of my house and 
 yours," added Alfred triumphantly. " Think of 
 our never having met her before ! " 
 
 '* I am thinking," said Jimmy. 
 
 " Of course she has been away from home a 
 great deal," went on Alfred. " She's been in 
 school in the East; but there were the summers." 
 
 " So there were," assented Jimmy, thinking of 
 his hitherto narrow escapes. 
 
 " Her father is old John Merton," continued 
 Alfred. " Merton the stationer you know him, 
 Jimmy. Unfortunately, he has a great deal of 
 money ; but that hasn't spoilt her. Oh no ! She 
 is just as simple and considerate in her behaviour 
 as if she were some poor little struggling school 
 teacher. She is the one for me, Jimmy. There is 
 no doubt about it, and I'll tell you a secret." 
 
 Jimmy looked at him blankly. 
 
 " I am going to propose to her this very night." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " grqaned Jimmy, as if his friend 
 had been suddenly struck down in the flower of 
 his youth. 
 
 " That's why you simply must come with me 
 to the hop," continued Alfred. " I want you to 
 take care of her friend Aggie, and leave me alone 
 with Zoie as much as possible." 
 
 " Zoie ! " sniffed Jimmy. The name to him was 
 as flippant as its owner.
 
 Baby Mine 11 
 
 " True, strong name," commented Alfred. 
 " So simple, so direct, so like her. I'll have to 
 leave you now," he said, rising. " I must send her 
 some flowers for the dance." He turned at the 
 door. Suppose I add a few from you for Aggie." 
 
 " What ! " exploded Jimmy. 
 
 " Just by way of introduction," called Alfred 
 gaily. " It's a good idea." 
 
 Before Jimmy could protest further, he found 
 himself alone for the second time that day. He 
 ate his roast in gloomy silence. It seemed dry 
 and tasteless. Even his favourite desert of plum 
 pudding failed to rouse him from his dark medita- 
 tions, and he rose from the table dejected and for- 
 lorn. 
 
 A few hours later, when Alfred led Jimmy into 
 the ballroom, the latter was depressed, not only by 
 his friend's impending danger, but he felt an 
 uneasy foreboding as to his own future. With 
 his college course practically finished and Alfred 
 attaching himself to unforeseen entities, Jimmy 
 had come to the ball with a curious feeling of hav- 
 ing been left suspended in mid-air. 
 
 Before he could voice his misgivings to Alfred, 
 the young men were surrounded by a circle of 
 chattering females. And then it was that Jimmy 
 found himself looking into a pair of level brown 
 eyes, and felt himself growing hot and cold by 
 turns. When the little knot of youths and maid- 
 ens disentangled itself into pairs of dancers, it
 
 12 Baby Mine 
 
 became clear to Jimmy that he had been intro- 
 duced to Aggie, and that he was expected to dance 
 with her. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Jimmy had danced with 
 many girls ; true, it was usually when there was 
 no other man left to " do duty "; but still he had 
 done it. Why then should he feel such distressing 
 hesitation about placing his arm around the waist 
 of this brown-eyed Diana? Try as he would he 
 could not find words to break the silence that had 
 fallen between them. She was so imposing; 
 so self-controlled. It really seemed to Jimmy 
 that she should be the one to ask him to 
 dance. As a matter of fact, that was just what 
 happened ; and after the dance she suggested that 
 they sit in the garden ; and in the garden, with the 
 moonlight barely peeping through the friendly 
 overhanging boughs of the trees, Jimmy found 
 Aggie capable of a courage that filled him with 
 amazement; and later that night, when he and 
 Alfred exchanged confidences, it became apparent 
 to the latter that Aggie had volunteered to under- 
 take the responsibility of outlining Jimmy's en- 
 tire future. 
 
 He was to follow his father's wishes and take 
 up a business career in Chicago at once; and as 
 soon as all the relatives concerned on both sides 
 had been duly consulted, he and Aggie were to 
 embark upon matrimony.
 
 Baby Mine 13 
 
 "Good!" cried Alfred, when Jimmy had man- 
 aged to stammer his shame-faced confession. 
 " We'll make it a double wedding. I can be ready 
 to-morrow, so far as I'm concerned." And then 
 followed another rhapsody upon the fitness of 
 Zoie as the keeper of his future home and hearth, 
 and the mother of his future sons and daughters. 
 In fact, it was far into the night when the two 
 friends separated separated in more than one 
 sense, as they afterward learned. 
 
 While Alfred and Jimmy were saying " good- 
 night " to each other, Zoie and Aggie in one of 
 the pretty chintz bedrooms of Professor Peck's 
 modest home, were still exchanging mutual con- 
 fidences. 
 
 "The thing I like about Alfred," said Zoie, 
 as she gazed at the tip of her dainty satin 
 slipper, and turned her head meditatively to one 
 side, " is his positive nature. I've never before 
 met any one like him. Do you know," she added 
 with a sly twinkle in her eye, " it was all I 
 could do to keep from laughing at him. He's so 
 awfully serious." She giggled to herself at the 
 recollection of him; then she leaned forward to 
 Aggie, her small hands clasped across her knees 
 and her face dimpling with mischief. " He hasn't 
 the remotest idea what I'm like." 
 
 Aggie studied her young friend with unmistak- 
 able reproach. " I made Jimmy know what Fm
 
 14 Baby Mine 
 
 like," she said. " I told him all my ideas about 
 everything." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " exclaimed Zoie in shocked 
 surprise. 
 
 " He's sure to find out sooner or later," said 
 Aggie sagely. " I think that's the only sensible 
 way to begin." 
 
 " If I'd told Alfred all my ideas about things," 
 smiled Zoie, " there'd have been no beginning." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Aggie, with a 
 troubled look. 
 
 " Well, take our meeting," explained Zoie. 
 " Just as we were introduced, that horrid little 
 Willie Peck caught his heel in a flounce of my 
 skirt. I turned round to slap him, but I saw 
 Alfred looking, so I patted his ugly little red 
 curls instead. And what do you think? Alfred 
 told me to-night that it was my devotion to 
 Willie that first made him adore me." 
 
 " And you didn't explain to him ? " asked Aggie 
 in amazement. 
 
 " And lose him before I'd got him ! " exclaimed 
 Zoie. 
 
 " It might be better than losing him after 
 you've got him," concluded the elder girl. 
 
 " Oh, Aggie," pouted Zoie, " I think you are 
 horrid. You're just trying to spoil all the fun of 
 my engagement." 
 
 " I am not," cried Aggie, and the next moment 
 she was sitting on the arm of Zoie's chair.
 
 Baby Mine 15 
 
 " Goose I " she said, " how dare you be cross with 
 me?" 
 
 " I am not cross," declared Zoie, and after the 
 customary apologies from Aggie, confidence was 
 fully restored on both sides and Zoie continued 
 gaily: "Don't you worry about Alfred and me," 
 she said as she kicked off her tiny slippers and 
 hopped into bed. " Just you wait until I get 
 him. I'll manage him all right." 
 
 "I dare say," answered Aggie; not without 
 misgivings, as she turned off the light.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE double wedding of four of Chicago's 
 " Younger Set " had been adequately noticed in 
 the papers, the conventional " honeymoon " jour- 
 ney had been made, and Alfred Hardy and Jimmy 
 Jinks had now settled down to the routine of 
 their respective business interests. 
 
 Having plunged into his office work with the 
 same vigour with which he had attacked higher 
 mathematics, Alfred had quickly gained the con- 
 fidence of the elders of his firm, and they had 
 already begun to give way to him in many import- 
 ant decisions. In fact, he was now practically at 
 the head of his particular department with one 
 office doing well in Chicago and a second office 
 promising well in Detroit. 
 
 As for Jimmy, he had naturally started his 
 business career with fewer pyrotechnics ; but he 
 was none the less contented. He seldom saw his 
 old friend Alfred now, but Aggie kept more or 
 less in touch with Zoie ; and over the luncheon table 
 the affairs of the two husbands were often dis- 
 cussed by their wives. It was after one of these 
 luncheons that Aggie upset Jimmy's evening re- 
 pose by the fireside by telling him that she was a 
 wee bit worried about Zoie and Alfred. 
 
 16
 
 Baby Mine 17 
 
 " Alfred is so unreasonable," said Aggie, " so 
 peevish." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " exclaimed Jimmy shortly. " If 
 he's peevish he has some good reason. You can 
 be sure of that." 
 
 " You needn't get cross with me, Jimmy," said 
 Aggie in a hurt voice. 
 
 "Why should I be cross with you?" snapped 
 Jimmy. " It isn't your fault if Alfred's made a 
 fool of himself by marrying the last person on 
 earth whom he should have married." 
 
 " I think he was very lucky to get her," argued 
 Aggie in defence of her friend. 
 
 " Oh, you do, do you? " answered Jimmy in a 
 very aggrieved tone. 
 
 " She is one of the prettiest girls in Chicago," 
 said Aggie. 
 
 " You're pretty too," answered Jimmy, " but it 
 doesn't make an idiot of you." 
 
 " It's time you said something nice to me," 
 purred Aggie; and her arm stole fondly around 
 Jimmy's large neck. 
 
 " I don't know why it Is," said Jimmy, shaking 
 his head dejectedly, " but every time Zoie Hardy's 
 name is mentioned in this house it seems to stir 
 up some sort of a row between you and me." 
 
 " That's because you're so prejudiced," an- 
 swered Aggie with a touch of irritation. 
 
 " There you go again," said Jimmy. 
 
 " I didn't mean it ! " interposed Aggie con-
 
 18 Baby Mine 
 
 tritely. " Oh, come now, Jimmy," she pleaded, 
 " let's trundle off to bed and forget all about it." 
 And they did. 
 
 But the next day, as Jimmy was heading for 
 the La Salle restaurant to get his luncheon, who 
 should call to him airily from a passing taxi but 
 Zoie. It was apparent that she wished him to 
 wait until she could alight; and in spite of his 
 disinclination to do so, he not only waited but 
 followed the taxi to its stopping place and helped 
 the young woman to the pavement. 
 
 " Oh, you darling ! " exclaimed Zoie, all of a 
 flutter, and looking exactly like an animated doll. 
 " You've just saved my life." She called to the 
 taxi driver to " wait." 
 
 " Are you in trouble ? " asked the guileless 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " Yes, dreadful," answered Zoie, and she thrust 
 a half-dozen small parcels into Jimmy's arms. 
 " I have to be at my dressmaker's in half an hour ; 
 and I haven't had a bite of lunch. I'm miles and 
 miles from home ; and I can't go into a restaurant 
 and eat just by myself without being stared 
 at. Wasn't it lucky that I saw you when I 
 did?" 
 
 There was really very little left for Jimmy to 
 say, so he said it; and a few minutes later they 
 were seated tete-a-tete in one of Chicago's most 
 fashionable restaurants, and Zoie the unconscious 
 flirt was looking up at Jimmy with apparently
 
 Baby Mine 19 
 
 adoring eyes, and suggesting all the eatables which 
 he particularly abominated. 
 
 No sooner had the unfortunate man acquiesced 
 in one thing and communicated Zoie's wish to the 
 waiter, than the flighty young person found some- 
 thing else on the menu that she considered more 
 tempting to her palate. Time and again the 
 waiter had to be recalled and the order had to be 
 given over until Jimmy felt himself laying up a 
 store of nervous indigestion that would doubtless 
 last him for days. 
 
 When the coveted food at last arrived, Zoie 
 had become completely engrossed in the headgear 
 of one of her neighbours, and it was only after 
 Jimmy had been induced to make himself ridicu- 
 lous by craning his neck to see things of no possi- 
 ble interest to him that Zoie at last gave her 
 attention to her plate. 
 
 In obeyance of Jimmy's order the waiter man- 
 aged to rush the lunch through within three- 
 quarters of an hour; but when Jimmy and Zoie at 
 length rose to go he was so insanely irritated, 
 that he declared they had been in the place for 
 hours ; demanded that the waiter hurry his 
 bill; and then finally departed in high dudgeon 
 without leaving the customary " tip " behind 
 him. 
 
 But all this was without its effect upon Zoie, 
 who, a few moments later rode away in her taxi, 
 waving gaily to Jimmy who was now late for
 
 20 Baby Mine 
 
 business and thoroughly at odds with himself and 
 the world. 
 
 As a result of the time lost at luncheon Jimmy 
 missed an appointment that had to wait over 
 until after office hours, and as a result of this 
 postponement, he missed Aggie, who went to a 
 friend's house for dinner, leaving word for him 
 to follow. For the first time in his life. Jimmy 
 disobeyed Aggie's orders, and, later on. when he 
 " trundled off to bed " alone, he again recalled 
 that it was Zoie Hardy who was always causing 
 hard feeling between him and his spouse. 
 
 Some hours later, when Aggie reached home 
 with misgivings because Jimmy had not joined 
 her, she was surprised to find him sleeping as 
 peacefully as a cherub. " Poor dear," she mur- 
 mured, " I hope he wasn't lonesome." And she 
 stole away to her room. 
 
 The next morning when Aggie did not appear 
 at the breakfast table, Jimmy rushed to her room 
 in genuine alarm. It was now Aggie's turn to 
 sleep peacefully; and he stole dejectedly back to 
 the dining-room and for the first time since their 
 marriage, he munched his cold toast and sipped 
 his coffee alone. 
 
 So thoroughly was his life now disorganised, 
 and so low were his spirits that he determined to 
 walk to his office, relying upon the crisp morning 
 air to brace him for the day's encounters. By 
 degrees, he regained his good cheer and as usual
 
 Baby Mine 21 
 
 when in rising spirits, his mind turned toward 
 Aggie. The second anniversary of their wedding 
 was fast approaching he began to take notice of 
 various window displays. By the time he had 
 reached his office, the weightiest decision on his 
 mind lay in choosing between a pearl pendant and 
 a diamond bracelet for his now adorable spouse. 
 
 But a more difficult problem awaited him. Be- 
 fore he was fairly in his chair, the telephone bell 
 rang violently. Never guessing who was at the 
 other end of the wire, he picked up his receiver 
 and answered. 
 
 "What?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Mrs. 
 Hardy ? " Several times he opened his lips to 
 ask a question, but it was apparent that the per- 
 son at the other end of the line had a great deal 
 to say and very little time to say it, and it was 
 only after repeated attempts that he managed to 
 get in a word or so edgewise. 
 
 " What's happened? " he asked. 
 
 " Say nothing to anybody," was Zoie's non- 
 committal answer, " not even to Aggie. Jump 
 in a taxi and come as quickly as you can." 
 
 " But what is it? " persisted Jimmy. The dull 
 sound of the wire told him that the person at the 
 other end had " hung up." 
 
 Jimmy gazed about the room in perplexity. 
 What was he to do? Why on earth should he 
 leave his letters unanswered and his mail topsy 
 turvy to rush forth in the shank of the morning
 
 22 Baby Mine 
 
 at the bidding of a young woman whom he ab- 
 horred. Ridiculous ! He would do no such 
 thing. He lit a cigar and began to open a few 
 letters marked " private." For the life of him he 
 could not understand one word that he read. 
 A worried look crossed his face. 
 
 " Suppose Zoie were really in need of help, 
 Aggie would certainly never forgive him if he 
 failed her." He rose and walked up and down. 
 
 "Why was he not to tell Aggie?" 
 
 " Where was Alfred? " He stopped abruptly. 
 His over excited imagination had suggested a 
 horrible but no doubt accurate answer. " Wedded 
 to an abomination like Zoie, Alfred had sought 
 the only escape possible to a man of his honour- 
 able ideals he had committed suicide." 
 
 Seizing his coat and hat Jimmy dashed through 
 the outer office without instructing his astonished 
 staff as to when he might possibly return. 
 
 " Family troubles," said the secretary to him- 
 self as he appropriated one of Jimmy's best cigars.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 LESS than half an hour later, Jimmy's taxi 
 stopped in front of the fashionable Sherwood 
 Apartments where Zoie had elected to live. As- 
 cending toward the fifth floor he scanned the face 
 of the elevator boy expecting to find it particu- 
 larly solemn because of the tragedy that had 
 doubtless taken place upstairs. He was on the 
 point of sending out a " feeler " about the matter, 
 when he remembered Zoie's solemn injunction to 
 " say nothing to anybody." Perhaps it was even 
 worse than suicide. He dared let his imagination 
 go no further. By the time he had put out his hand 
 to touch the electric button at Zoie's front door, 
 his finger was trembling so that he wondered 
 whether he could hit the mark. The result was a 
 very faint note from the bell, but not so faint 
 that it escaped the ear of the anxious young wife, 
 who had been pacing up and down the floor of her 
 charming living room for what seemed to her ages. 
 
 " Hurry, hurry, hurry ! " Zoie cried through 
 her tears to her neat little maid servant, then 
 reaching for her chatelaine, she daubed her small 
 nose and flushed cheeks with powder, after which 
 she nodded to Mary to open the door. 
 
 To Jimmy, the maid's pert " good-morning " 
 23
 
 24 Baby Mine 
 
 seemed to be in very bad taste and to properly 
 reprove her he assumed a grave, dignified air out 
 of which he was promptly startled by Zoie's even 
 more unseemly greeting. 
 
 " Hello, Jimmy ! " she snapped. Her tone was 
 certainly not that of a heart-broken widow. " It's 
 time you got here," she added with an injured air. 
 
 Jimmy gazed at Zoie in astonishment. She 
 was never what he would have called a sympa- 
 thetic woman, but really ! 
 
 " I came the moment you 'phoned me," he 
 stammered ; " what is it ? What's the matter ? " 
 
 " It's awful," sniffled Zoie. And she tore up 
 and down the room regardless of the fact that 
 Jimmy was still unseated. 
 
 "Awful what? " questioned Jimmy. 
 
 " Worst I've ever had," sobbed Zoie. 
 
 " Is anything wrong with Alfred? " ventured 
 Jimmy. And he braced himself for her answer. 
 
 " He's gone," sobbed Zoie. 
 
 " Gone ! " echoed Jimmy, feeling sure that his 
 worst fears were about to be realised. " Gone 
 where? " 
 
 "I don't know," sniffled Zoie, "I just 'phoned 
 his office. He isn't there." 
 
 " Oh, is that all? " answered Jimmy, with a sigh 
 of relief. " Just another little family tiff," he 
 was unable to conceal a feeling of thankfulness. 
 "What's up?" 
 
 Zoie measured Jimmy with a dangerous gleam
 
 Baby Mine 25 
 
 in her eyes. She resented the patronising tone 
 that he was adopting. How dare he be cheerful 
 when she was so unhappy and because of him, 
 too? She determined that his self-complacency 
 should be short-lived. 
 
 " Alfred has found out that I lied about the 
 luncheon," she said, weighing her words and their 
 effect upon Jimmy. 
 
 "What luncheon?" stuttered Jimmy, feeling 
 sure that Zoie had suddenly marked him for her 
 victim, but puzzled as to what form her perse- 
 cution was about to take. 
 
 "What luncheon?" repeated Zoie, trying ap- 
 parently to conceal her disgust at his dulness. 
 " Our luncheon yesterday" 
 
 " Why did you lie? " asked Jimmy, his yes 
 growing rounder and rounder with wonder. 
 
 " I didn't know he knew," answered Zoie inno- 
 cently. 
 
 "Knew what?" questioned Jimmy, more and 
 more befogged. 
 
 " That I'd eaten with a man," concluded Zoie 
 impatiently. Then she turned her back upon 
 Jimmy and again dashed up and down the room 
 occupied with her own thoughts. 
 
 It was certainly difficult to get much under- 
 standing out of Zoie's disjointed observations, 
 but Jimmy was doing his best. He followed her 
 restless movements about the room with his eyes, 
 and then ventured a timid comment.
 
 26 Baby Mine 
 
 "He couldn't object to your eating with me." 
 
 " Oh, couldn't he? " cried Zoie, and she turned 
 upon him with a look of contempt. " If there's 
 anything that he doesn't object to," she con- 
 tinued, " I haven't found it out yet." And with 
 that she threw herself in a large arm chair near 
 the table, and left Jimmy to draw his own con- 
 clusions. 
 
 Jimmy looked about the room as though ex- 
 pecting aid from some unseen source; then his 
 eyes sought the floor. Eventually they crept to 
 the tip of Zoie's tiny slipper as it beat a nervous 
 tattoo on the rug. To save his immortal soul, 
 Jimmy could never help being hypnotised by 
 Zoie's small feet. He wondered now if they had 
 been the reason of Alfred's first downfall. He re- 
 called with a sigh of relief that Aggie's feet were 
 large and reassuring. He also recalled an ap- 
 propriate quotation : " The path of virtue is not 
 for women with small feet," it ran. " Yes, Aggie's 
 feet are undoubtedly large," he concluded. But 
 all this was not solving Zoie's immediate prob- 
 lem; and an impatient cough from her made him 
 realise that something was expected of him. 
 
 " Why did you lunch with me," he asked, with 
 a touch of irritation, " if you thought he wouldn't 
 like it? " 
 
 " I was hungry," snapped Zoie. 
 
 " Oh," grunted Jimmy, and in spite of his dis- 
 like of the small creature his vanity resented the
 
 Baby Mine 27 
 
 bald assertion that she had not lunched with him 
 for his company's sake. 
 
 '* I wouldn't have made an engagement with 
 you of course," she continued, with a frankness 
 that vanquished any remaining conceit that 
 Jimmy might have brought with him. " I ex- 
 plained to you how it was at the time. It was 
 merely a case of convenience. You know that." 
 
 Jimmy was beginning to see it more and more 
 in the light of an inconvenience. 
 
 " If you hadn't been in front of that horrid 
 old restaurant just when I was passing," she con- 
 tinued, " all this would never have happened. 
 But you were there, and you asked me to come 
 in and have a bite with you; and I did, and there 
 you are." 
 
 " Yes, there I am," assented Jimmy dismally. 
 There was no doubt about where he was now, but 
 where was he going to end? That was the ques- 
 tion. " See here," he exclaimed with fast grow- 
 ing uneasiness, " I don't like being mixed up in 
 this sort of thing." 
 
 " Of course you'd think of yourself first," 
 sneered Zoie. " That's just like a man." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to get your husband down 
 on me," argued Jimmy evasively. 
 
 " Oh, I didn't give you away," sneered Zoie. 
 " You needn't worry," and she fixed her eyes upon 
 him with a scornful expression that left no doubt 
 as to her opinion that he was a craven coward.
 
 28 Baby Mine 
 
 " But you said he'd ' found out,' " stammered 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " He's found out that I ate with a man," an- 
 swered Zoic, more and more aggrieved at having 
 to employ so much detail in the midst of her dis- 
 tress. " He doesn't know it was you." 
 
 " But Zoie " protested Jimmy. 
 
 She lifted a small hand, begging him to spare 
 her further questions. It was apparent that she 
 must explain each aspect of their present diffi- 
 culty, with as much patience as though Jimmy 
 were in reality only a child. She sank into her 
 chair and then proceeded, with a martyred 
 air. 
 
 " You see it was like this," she said. " Alfred 
 came into the restaurant just after we had gone 
 out and Henri, the waiter who has taken care of 
 him for years, told him that I had just been in 
 to luncheon with a gentleman." 
 
 Jimmy shifted about on the edge of his chair, 
 ill at ease. 
 
 " Now if Alfred had only told me that in the 
 first place," she continued, " I'd have known what 
 to say, but he didn't. Oh no, he was as sweet as 
 could be all through breakfast and last night too, 
 and then just as he was leaving this morning, I 
 said something about luncheon and he said, quite 
 casually, * Where did you have luncheon yester- 
 day, my dear? ' So I answered quite carelessly, 
 * I had none, my love.' Well, I wish you could
 
 Baby Mine 29 
 
 have seen him. He called me dreadful things. 
 He says I'm the one thing he can't endure." 
 
 "What's that? " questioned Jimmy, wondering 
 how Alfred could confine himself to any " one 
 thing." 
 
 " He says I'm a liar ! " shrieked Zoie tearfully. 
 
 "Well, aren't you?" asked Jimmy. 
 
 "Of course I am," declared Zoie; "but why 
 shouldn't I be? " She looked at Jimmy with 
 such an air of self-approval that for the life of 
 him he could find no reason to offer. " You 
 know how jealous Alfred is," she continued. 
 " He makes such a fuss about the slightest thing 
 that I've got out of the habit of ever telling the 
 truth" She walked away from Jimmy as though 
 dismissing the entire matter; he shifted his posi- 
 tion uneasily ; she turned to him again with mock 
 sweetness. " I suppose you told Aggie all about 
 it? " she said. 
 
 Jimmy's round eyes opened wide and his jaw 
 dropped lower. " I I don't believe I did," he 
 stammered weakly. " I didn't think of it again." 
 
 " Thank heaven for that ! " concluded Zoie 
 with tightly pressed lips. Then she knotted her 
 small white brow in deep thought. 
 
 Jimmy regarded her with growing uneasi- 
 ness. " What are you up to now? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't know yet," mused Zoie, " but you're 
 not going to tell Aggie that's one sure thing." 
 And she pinned him down with her eyes.
 
 30 Baby Mine 
 
 " I certainly will tell her," asserted Jimmy, 
 with a wag of his very round head. " Aggie is 
 just the one to get you out of this." 
 
 ** She's just the one to make things worse," 
 said Zoie decidedly. Then seeing Jimmy's hurt 
 look, she continued apologetically : " Aggie 
 means all right, but she has an absolute mania 
 for mixing up in other people's troubles. And 
 you know how that always ends." 
 
 " I never deceived my wife in all my life," de- 
 clared Jimmy, with an air of self approval that 
 he was far from feeling. 
 
 " Now, Jimmy," protested Zoie impatiently, 
 " you aren't going to have moral hydrophobia 
 just when I need your help!" 
 
 " I'm not going to lie to Aggie, if that's what 
 you mean," said Jimmy, endeavouring not to 
 wriggle under Zoie's disapproving gaze. 
 
 " Then don't," answered Zoie sweetly. 
 
 Jimmy never feared Zoie more than when she 
 appeared to agree with him. He looked at her 
 now with uneasy distrust. 
 
 "Tell her the truth," urged Zoie. 
 
 " I will," declared Jimmy with an emphatic 
 nod. 
 
 "And Pll deny it," concluded Zoie with an im- 
 pudent toss of her head. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Jimmy, and he felt him- 
 self getting onto his feet. 
 
 " I've already denied it to Alfred," continued
 
 Mine 81 
 
 Zoie. " I told him I'd never been in that restau- 
 rant without him in all my life, that the waiter 
 had mistaken someone else for me." And again 
 she turned her back upon Jimmy. 
 
 " But don't you see," protested Jimmy, " this 
 would all be so very much simpler if you'd 
 just own up to the truth now, before it's too 
 late?" 
 
 "It is too late," declared Zoie. "Alfred 
 wouldn't believe me now, whatever I told him. 
 He says a woman who lies once lies all the time. 
 He'd think I'd been carrying on with you all 
 along." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " groaned Jimmy as the full 
 realisation of his predicament thrust itself upon 
 him. 
 
 " We don't dare tell him now," continued Zoie, 
 elated by the demoralised state to which she was 
 fast reducing him. " For Heaven's sake, don't 
 make it any worse," she concluded ; " it's bad 
 enough as it is." 
 
 " It certainly is," agreed Jimmy, and he sank 
 dejectedly into his chair. 
 
 " If you do tell him," threatened Zoie from 
 the opposite side of the table, " I'll say you en- 
 ticed me into the place." 
 
 " What ! " shrieked Jimmy and again he found 
 himself on his feet. 
 
 " I will," insisted Zoie ; " I give you fair warn- 
 ing."
 
 32 Baby Mine 
 
 He stared at her in absolute horror. " I don't 
 believe you've any conscience at all," he said. 
 
 " I haven't," she sniffled. " I'm too miser- 
 able." And throwing herself into the nearest 
 armchair she wept copiously at the thought of 
 her many injuries. 
 
 Uncertain whether to fly or to remain, Jimmy 
 gazed at her gloomily. " Well, I'm not laughing 
 myself to death," he said. 
 
 For answer Zoie turned upon him vehemently. 
 " I just wish I'd never laid eyes on you, Jimmy," 
 she cried. 
 
 Jimmy was wishing the very same thing. 
 
 " If I cared about you," she sobbed, " it 
 wouldn't be so bad ; but to think of losing my Al- 
 fred for " words failed her and she trailed 
 
 off weakly, " for nothing ! " 
 
 " Thanks," grunted Jimmy curtly. In spite 
 of himself he was always miffed by the uncompli- 
 mentary way in which she disposed of him. 
 
 His sarcasm was lost upon Zoie. Having fin- 
 ished all she had to say to him, she was now ap- 
 parently bent upon indulging herself in a first 
 class fit of hysterics. 
 
 There are critical moments in all of our lives 
 when our future happiness or woe hangs upon 
 our own decision. Jimmy felt intuitively that 
 he was face to face with such a moment, but 
 which way to turn? that was the question. Being 
 Jimmy, and soft-hearted in spite of his efforts
 
 Baby Mine 33 
 
 to conceal it, he naturally turned the wrong way, 
 in other words, towards Zoie. 
 
 " Oh, come now," he said awkwardly, as he 
 crossed to the arm of her chair. " This will soon 
 blow over." 
 
 Zoie only sobbed the louder. 
 
 " This isn't the first time you and Alfred have 
 called it all off," he reminded her. 
 
 Again she sobbed. 
 
 Jimmy could never remember quite how it hap- 
 pened. But apparently he must have patted Zoie 
 on the shoulder. At any rate, something or other 
 loosened the flood-gates of her emotion, and be- 
 fore Jimmy could possibly escape from her vicin- 
 ity she had wheeled round in her chair, thrown 
 her arms about him, and buried her tear-stained 
 face against his waist-coat. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed Jimmy, for the third 
 time that morning, as he glanced nervously to- 
 ward the door; but Zoie was exclaiming in her 
 own way and sobbing louder and louder; further- 
 more she was compelling Jimmy to listen to an 
 exaggerated account of her many disappoint- 
 ments in her unreasonable husband. Seeing no 
 possibility of escape, without resorting to ph} 7 si- 
 cal violence, Jimmy stood his ground, wondering 
 what to expect next. He did not have long to 
 wonder.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WITHIN an hour from the time Alfred had en- 
 tered his office that morning he was leaving it, in 
 a taxi, with his faithful secretary at his side, and 
 his important papers in a bag at his feet. 
 " Take me to the Sherwood," he commanded the 
 driver, " and be quick." 
 
 As they neared Alfred's house, Johnson could 
 feel waves of increasing anger circling around his 
 perturbed young employer and later when they 
 alighted from the taxi it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that he could keep pace with him. 
 
 Unfortunately for Jimmy, the outer door of 
 the Hardy apartment had been left ajar, and 
 thus it was that he was suddenly startled from 
 Zoie's unwelcome embraces by a sharp exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 " So ! " cried Alfred, and he brought his fist 
 down with emphasis on the centre table at Jim- 
 my's back. 
 
 Wheeling about, Jimmy beheld his friend face 
 to face with him. Alfred's lips were pressed 
 tightly together, his eyes flashing fire. It was 
 apparent that he desired an immediate explana- 
 tion. Jimmy turned to the place where Zoie had 
 been, to ask for help; like the traitress that she 
 
 34
 
 Baby Mine 35 
 
 was, he now saw her flying through her bedroom 
 door. Again he glanced at Alfred, who was 
 standing like a sentry, waiting for the pass-word 
 that should restore his confidence in his friend, 
 
 " I'm afraid I've disturbed you," sneered Al- 
 fred. 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all," answered Jimmy, affect- 
 ing a careless indifference that he did not feel 
 and unconsciously shaking hands with the waiting 
 secretary. 
 
 Reminded of the secretary's presence in such 
 a distinctly family scene, Alfred turned to him 
 with annoyance. 
 
 " Go into my study," he said. " I'll be with 
 you presently. Here's your list," he added and 
 he thrust a long memorandum into the sec- 
 retary's hand. Johnson retired as unobtrusively 
 as possible and the two old friends were left alone. 
 There was another embarrassed silence which 
 Jimmy, at least, seemed powerless to break. 
 
 "Well?" questioned Alfred in a threatening 
 tone. 
 
 " Tolerably well," answered Jimmy in his most 
 pleasant but slightly nervous manner. Then fol- 
 lowed another pause in which Alfred continued 
 to eye his old friend with grave suspicion. 
 
 "The fact is," stammered Jimmy, "I just 
 came over to bring Aggie " he corrected him- 
 self " that is, to bring Zoie a little message 
 from Aggie."
 
 36 Baby Mine 
 
 " It seemed to be a sad one," answered Alfred, 
 with a sarcastic smile, as he recalled the picture 
 of Zoie weeping upon his friend's sleeve. 
 
 " Oh no no ! " answered Jimmy, with an elab- 
 orate attempt at carelessness. 
 
 " Do you generally play the messenger during 
 business hours?" thundered Alfred, becoming 
 more and more enraged at Jimmy's petty eva- 
 sions. 
 
 " Just sometimes," answered Jimmy, persist- 
 ing in his amiable manner. 
 
 " Jimmy," said Alfred, and there was a solemn 
 warning in his voice, " don't you lie to me ! " 
 
 Jimmy started as though shot. The conscious- 
 ness of his guilt was strong upon him. " I beg 
 your pardon," he gasped, for the want of any- 
 thing more intelligent to say. 
 
 " You don't do it -well," continued Alfred* 
 '* and you and I are old friends." 
 
 Jimmy's round eyes fixed themselves on the 
 carpet. 
 
 " My wife has been telling you her troubles," 
 surmised Alfred. 
 
 Jimmy tried to protest, but the lie would not 
 come. 
 
 "Very well," continued Alfred, "I'll tell you 
 something too. I've done with her." He thrust 
 his hands in his pockets and began to walk up 
 and down. 
 
 " What a turbulent household," thought
 
 Baby Mine 37 
 
 Jimmy and then he set out in pursuit of his 
 friend. " I'm sorry you've had a misunderstand- 
 ing," he began. 
 
 "Misunderstanding!" shouted Alfred, turn- 
 ing upon him so sharply that he nearly tripped 
 him up, " we've never had anything else. There 
 was never anything else for us to have. She's 
 lied up hill and down dale from the first time she 
 clinched her baby fingers around my hand " 
 he imitated Zoie's dainty manner " and said 
 * pleased to meet you ! ' But I've caught her 
 with the goods this time," he shouted, " and I've 
 just about got htm." 
 
 " Him ! " echoed Jimmy weakly. 
 
 " The wife-stealer," exclaimed Alfred, and he 
 clinched his fists in anticipation of the justice 
 he would one day mete out to the despicable crea- 
 ture. 
 
 Now Jimmy had been called many things in. 
 his time, he realised that he would doubtless be 
 called many more things in the future, but never 
 by the wildest stretch of imagination, had he 
 ever conceived of himself in the role of *' wife- 
 stealer." 
 
 Mistaking Jimmy's look of amazement for one 
 of incredulity, Alfred endeavoured to convince 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, you'll meet a wife-stealer sooner or later," 
 he assured him. " You needn't look so horri- 
 fied."
 
 38 Baby Mine 
 
 Jimmy only stared at him and he continued 
 excitedly : " She's had the effrontery the bad 
 taste the idiocy to lunch in a public restau- 
 rant with the blackguard." 
 
 The mere sound of the word made Jimmy 
 shudder, but engrossed in his own troubles Al- 
 fred continued without heeding him. 
 
 " Henri, the head-waiter, told me," explained 
 Alfred, and Jimmy remembered guiltily that he 
 had been very bumptious with the fellow. " You 
 know the place," continued Alfred, " the LaSalle 
 a restaurant where I am known where she is 
 known where my best friends dine where 
 Henri has looked after me for years. That 
 shows how desperate she is. She must be mad 
 about the fool. She's lost all sense of decency." 
 And again Alfred paced the floor. 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that," stammered 
 Jimmy. 
 
 "Oh, wouldn't you?" cried Alfred, again 
 turning so abruptly that Jimmy caught his 
 breath. Each word of Jimmy's was apparently 
 goading him on to greater anger. 
 
 " Now don't get hasty," Jimmy almost pleaded. 
 " The whole thing is no doubt perfectly innocent. 
 Talk to her gently. Win her confidence. Get 
 her to tell you the truth." 
 
 " The truth ! " shouted Alfred in derision. 
 "Zoie! The truth!" 
 
 Jimmy feared that his young friend might ac-
 
 Baby Mine 39 
 
 tually become violent. Alfred bore down upon 
 him like a maniac. 
 
 "The truth!" he repeated wildly. "She 
 wouldn't know the truth if she saw it under a 
 microscope. She's the most unconscionable lit- 
 tle liar that ever lured a man to the altar." 
 
 Jimmy rolled his round eyes with feigned in- 
 credulity. 
 
 " I found it out before we'd been married a 
 month," continued Alfred. " She used to sit 
 evenings facing the clock. I sat with my back 
 to it. I used to ask her the time. Invariably 
 she would lie half an hour, backward or forward, 
 just for practice. That was the beginning. 
 Here, listen to some of these," he added, as he 
 drew half a dozen telegrams from his inner 
 pocket, and motioned Jimmy to sit at the oppo- 
 site side of the table. 
 
 Jimmy would have preferred to stand, but it 
 was not a propitious time to consult his own pref- 
 erences. He allowed himself to be bullied into 
 the chair that Alfred suggested. 
 
 Throwing himself into the opposite chair, Al- 
 fred selected various exhibits from his collection 
 of messages. " I just brought these up from 
 the office," he said. " These are some of the tel- 
 egrams that she sent me each day last week while 
 I was away. This is Monday's." And he pro- 
 ceeded to read with a sneering imitation of Zoie's 
 cloy sweetness.
 
 40 Baby Mine 
 
 " * Darling, so lonesome without you. Cried 
 all day. When are you coming home to your 
 wee sad wifie? Love and kisses. Zoie.'' Tear- 
 ing the defenceless telegram into bits, Alfred 
 threw it from him and waited for his friend's 
 verdict. 
 
 " She sent that over the wire? " gasped Jimmy. 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," answered Alfred. 
 " That's a mild one." And he selected another 
 from the same pocket. " Here, listen to this. 
 This is what she really did. This is from my sec- 
 retary the same night." 
 
 " You spied upon her ! " asked Jimmy, feeling 
 more and more convinced that his own decep- 
 tions would certainly be run to earth. 
 
 " I have to spy upon her," answered Alfred, 
 " in self-defence. It's the only way I can keep 
 her from making me utterly ridiculous." And 
 he proceeded to read from the secretary's tele-- 
 gram. " ' Shopped all morning. Lunched at 
 Martingale's with man and woman unknown to 
 me Martingale's, ' " he repeated with a sneer 
 " ' Motored through Park with Mrs. Wilmer un- 
 til five.' Mrs. Wilmer," he exclaimed, " there's 
 a woman I've positively forbidden her to speak 
 to." 
 
 Jimmy only shook his head and Alfred contin- 
 ued to read. 
 
 " ' Had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and 
 young Ardesley at the Park View.' Ardesley is
 
 Baby Mine 41 
 
 a young cub," explained Alfred, " who spends his 
 time running around with married women while 
 their husbands are away trying to make a living 
 for them." 
 
 " Shocking ! " was the extent of Jimmy's com- 
 ment, and Alfred resumed reading. 
 
 " ' Dinner and theatre same party. Supper 
 at Wellingford. Home two A. M.' ' He looked 
 at Jimmy, expecting to hear Zoie bitterly con- 
 demned. Jimmy only stared at him blankly. 
 " That's pretty good," commented Alfred, " for 
 the woman who 4 cried ' all day, isn't it? " 
 
 Still Jimmy made no answer, and Alfred 
 brought his fist down upon the table impatiently. 
 "Isn't it?" he repeated. 
 
 " She was a bit busy tliat day," admitted 
 Jimmy uneasily. 
 
 " The truth ! " cried Alfred again, as he rose 
 and paced about excitedly. " Getting the truth 
 out of Zoie is like going to a fire in the night. 
 You think it's near, but you never get there. 
 And when she begins by saying that she's going 
 to tell you the * real truth ' " he threw up his 
 hands in despair " well, then it's time to leave 
 home."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THERE was another pause, then Alfred drew 
 in his breath and bore down upon Jimmy with 
 fresh vehemence. " The only time I get even a 
 semblance of truth out of Zoie," he cried, " is 
 when I catch her red-handed." Again he 
 pounded the table and again Jimmy winced. 
 " And even then," he continued, " she colours it 
 so with her affected innocence and her plea about 
 just wishing to be a s good fellow,' that she al- 
 most makes me doubt my own eyes. She is an 
 artist," he declared with a touch of enforced ad- 
 miration. "There's no use talking; that woman 
 is an artist." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked Jimmy, 
 for the want of anything better to say. 
 
 " I am going to leave her," declared Alfred 
 emphatically. " I am going away." 
 
 A faint hope lit Jimmy's round childlike face. 
 With Alfred away there would be no further in- 
 vestigation of the luncheon incident. 
 
 " That might be a good idea," he said. 
 
 "It's the idea," said Alfred; "most of my 
 business is in Detroit anyhow. I'm going to 
 make that my headquarters and stay there." 
 
 Jimmy was almost smiling. 
 42
 
 Baby Mine 43 
 
 " As for Zoie," continued Alfred, " she can 
 stay right here and go as far as she likes." 
 
 " Not with me," thought Jimmy. 
 
 " But," shrieked Alfred, with renewed empha- 
 sis, " I'm going to find out who the fellow is. 
 I'll have that satisfaction!" 
 
 Jimmy's spirits fell. 
 
 " Henri knows the head-waiter of every res- 
 taurant in this town," said Alfred, " that is, 
 every one where she'd be likely to go; and he 
 says he'd recognise the man she lunched with if 
 he saw him again." 
 
 Jimmy's features became suddenly distorted. 
 
 " The minute she appears anywhere with any- 
 body," explained Alfred, " Henri will be notified 
 by 'phone. He'll identify the man and then he'll 
 wire me." 
 
 "What good will that do?" asked Jimmy 
 weakly. 
 
 " I'll take the first train home," declared Al- 
 fred. 
 
 " For what? " questioned Jimmy. 
 
 " To shoot him ! " exclaimed Alfred. 
 
 " What ! " gasped Jimmy, almost losing his 
 footing. 
 
 Alfred mistook Jimmy's concern for anxiety 
 on his behalf. 
 
 " Oh, I'll be acquitted," he declared. " Don't 
 you worry. I'll get my tale of woe before the 
 jury."
 
 44 Baby Mine 
 
 " But I say," protested Jimmy, too uneasy to 
 longer conceal his real emotions, "why kill 
 this one particular chap when there are so many 
 others?" 
 
 " He's the only one she's ever lunched with, 
 alone," said Alfred. " She's been giddy, but at 
 least she's always been chaperoned, except with 
 him. He's the one all right; there's no doubt 
 about it. He's the beginning of the end." 
 
 " His own end, yes," assented Jimmy half to 
 himself. " Now, see here, old man," he argued, 
 " I'd give that poor devil a chance to explain." 
 
 " Explain ! " shouted Alfred so sharply that 
 Jimmy quickly retreated. " I wouldn't believe 
 him now if he were one of the Twelve Apostles." 
 
 " That's tough," murmured Jimmy as he saw 
 the last avenue of honourable escape closed to him. 
 
 " Tough ! " roared Alfred, thinking of him- 
 self. " Hah." 
 
 " On the Apostles, I mean," explained Jimmy 
 nervously. 
 
 Again Alfred paced up and down the room, and 
 again Jimmy tried to think of some way to 
 escape from his present difficulty. It was 
 quite apparent that his only hope lay not in his 
 own candor, but in Alfred's absence. " How 
 long do you expect to be away? " he asked. 
 
 " Only until I hear from Henri," said Al- 
 fred. 
 
 " Henri ? " repeated Jimmy and again a gleam
 
 Baby Mine 45 
 
 of hope shone on his dull features. He had heard 
 that waiters were often to be bribed. " Nice fel- 
 low, Henri," he ventured cautiously. " Gets a 
 large salary, no doubt?" 
 
 " Does he ! " exclaimed Alfred, with a certain 
 pride of proprietorship. " No tips could touch 
 Henri, no indeed. He's not that sort of a per- 
 son." 
 
 Again the hope faded from Jimmy's round face. 
 
 " I look upon Henri as my friend," continued 
 Alfred enthusiastically. " He speaks every lan- 
 guage known to man. He's been in every coun- 
 try in the world. Henri understands life." 
 
 " Lots of people understand life," commented 
 Jimmy dismally, " but some people don't appreci- 
 ate it. They value it too lightly, to my way of 
 thinking." 
 
 " Ah, but you have something to live for," ar- 
 gued Alfred. 
 
 " I have indeed ; a great deal," agreed Jimmy, 
 more and more abused at the thought of what 
 he was about to lose. 
 
 " Ah, that's different," exclaimed Alfred. 
 " But what have I? " 
 
 Jimmy was in no frame of mind to consider 
 his young friend's assets ; he was thinking of his 
 own difficulties. 
 
 " I'm a laughing stock," shouted Alfred. " I 
 know it. A * good thing ' who gives his wife 
 everything she asks for, while she is running
 
 46 Baby Mine 
 
 around with with my best friend, for all I 
 know." 
 
 " Oh, no, no," protested Jimmy nervously. " I 
 wouldn't say that." 
 
 " Even if she weren't running around," contin- 
 ued Alfred excitedly, without heeding his friend's 
 interruption, " what have we to look forward to? 
 What have we to look backward to ? " 
 
 Again Jimmy's face was a blank. 
 
 Alfred answered his own question by lifting 
 his arms tragically toward Heaven. " One eter- 
 nal round of wrangles and rows ! A childless 
 home ! Do you think she wants babies ? " he 
 cried, wheeling about on Jimmy, and daring him 
 to answer in the affirmative. " Oh, no ! " he 
 sneered. " All she wants is a good time." 
 
 " Well," mumbled Jimmy, " I can't see much 
 in babies myself, fat, little, red worms." 
 
 Alfred's breath went from him in astonishment. 
 
 "Weren't you ever a fat, little, red worm?" 
 
 he hissed. " Wasn't 7 ever a little, fat, red " 
 
 he paused in confusion, as his ear became puzzled 
 by the proper sequence of his adjectives, "a fat, 
 red, little worm," he stammered ; " and see what 
 we are now ! '* He thrust out his chest and 
 strutted about in great pride. 
 
 " Big red worms," admitted Jimmy gloomily. 
 
 But Alfred did not hear him. " You and I 
 ought to have sons on the way to what we are," 
 he declared, " and better."
 
 Baby Mine 47 
 
 " Oh yes, better," agreed Jimmy, thinking of 
 his present plight. " Much better." 
 
 " But have we? " demanded Alfred. 
 
 Jimmy glanced about the room, as though ex- 
 pecting an answering demonstration from the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " Have you? " persisted Alfred. 
 
 Jimmy shook his head solemnly. 
 
 " Have I? " asked the irate husband. 
 
 Out of sheer absent mindedness Jimmy shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 As usual Alfred answered his own question. 
 " Oh, no ! " he raged. " You have a wife who 
 spends her time and money gadding about 
 with " 
 
 Jimmy's face showed a new alarm. 
 
 " my wife," concluded Alfred. 
 
 Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 " I have a wife," said Alfred, " who spends her 
 time and my money gadding around with God 
 knows whom. But I'll catch him ! " he cried with 
 new fury. " Here," he said, pulling a roll of 
 bills from his pocket. " I'll bet you I'll catch 
 him. How much do you want to bet ? " 
 
 Undesirous of offering any added inducements 
 toward his own capture, Jimmy backed away 
 both literally and figuratively from Alfred's prop- 
 osition. 
 
 "What's the use of getting so excited?" he 
 asked.
 
 48 Baby Mine 
 
 Mistaking Jimmy's unwillingness to bet for a 
 disinclination to take advantage of a friend's reck- 
 less mood, Alfred resented the implied insult to his 
 astuteness. 
 
 " You think I can't catch him? " he exclaimed. 
 " Let's see the colour of your money," he de- 
 manded. 
 
 But before Jimmy could comply, an unexpected 
 voice broke into the argument and brought them 
 both round with a start.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 " GOOD Heavens," exclaimed Aggie, who had 
 entered the room while Alfred was talking his 
 loudest. " What a racket ! " 
 
 Her eyes fell upon Jimmy who was teetering 
 about uneasily just behind Alfred. She stared 
 at him in amazement. Was it possible that 
 Jimmy, the methodical, had left his office at this 
 hour of the morning, and for what? 
 
 Avoiding the question in Aggie's eyes, Jimmy 
 pretended to be searching for his pocket hand- 
 kerchief but always with the vision of Aggie in 
 her new Fall gown and her large " picture " hat 
 at his elbow. Never before had she appeared so 
 beautiful to him, so desirable suppose he should 
 lose her? Life spread before him as a dreary 
 waste. He tried to look up at her; he could not. 
 He feared she would read his guilt in his eyes. 
 " What guilt ? " he asked himself. There was no 
 longer any denying the fact a secret had sprung 
 up between them. 
 
 Annoyed at receiving no greeting, Aggie con- 
 tinued in a rather hurt voice: 
 
 " Aren't you two going to speak to me? " 
 
 Alfred swallowed hard in an effort to regain 
 his composure. 
 
 49
 
 50 Baby Mine 
 
 " Good-morning," he said curtly. 
 
 Fully convinced of a disagreement between the 
 two old friends, Aggie addressed herself in a re- 
 proachful tone to Jimmy. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " what are you doing 
 here this time of day? " 
 
 Jimmy felt Alfred's steely eyes upon him. 
 "Why!" he stammered. "Why, I just came 
 over to bring your message." 
 
 " My message ? " repeated Aggie in perplex- 
 ity. "What message?" 
 
 Alfred's eyebrows drew themselves sharply to- 
 gether. 
 
 Jimmy had told so many lies this morning that 
 another more or less could not matter ; moreover, 
 this was not a time to hesitate. 
 
 " Why, the message you sent to Zoie," he an- 
 swered boldly. 
 
 " But I sent no message to Zoie," said Ag- 
 gie. 
 
 " What ! " thundered Alfred, so loud that Ag- 
 gie's fingers involuntarily went to her ears. She 
 was more and more puzzled by the odd behaviour 
 of the two. 
 
 " I mean yesterday's message," corrected 
 Jimmy. And he assumed an aggrieved air to- 
 ward Aggie. 
 
 " You villain," exclaimed Aggie. " I told you 
 to 'phone her yesterday morning from the office." 
 
 " Yes, I know," agreed Jimmy placidly, " but I
 
 Baby Mine 51 
 
 forgot it and I just came over to explain." Al- 
 fred's fixed stare was relaxing and at last Jimmy 
 could breathe. 
 
 " Oh," murmured Aggie, with a wise little ele- 
 vation of her eye-brows, " then that's why Zoie 
 didn't keep her luncheon appointment with me 
 yesterday." 
 
 Jimmy felt that if this were to go on much 
 longer, he would utter one wild shriek and give 
 himself up for lost; but at present he merely 
 swallowed with an effort, and awaited develop- 
 ments. 
 
 It was now Alfred's turn to become excited. 
 
 " Oh, is it ! " he cried with hysterical laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Aggie regarded him with astonishment. Was 
 this her usually self-controlled friend? 
 
 " Oh, no ! " sneered Alfred with unmistakable 
 pity for her credulity. " That's not why my 
 wife didn't eat luncheon with you. She may tell 
 you that's why. She undoubtedly will ; but it's 
 not why. Oh, no!" and running his hands 
 through his hair, Alfred tore up and down the 
 room. 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" Aggie asked 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Your dear husband Jimmy will doubtless ex- 
 plain," answered Alfred with a slur on the 
 " dear." Then he turned toward the door of his 
 study. " Pray excuse me I'm too busy," and
 
 52 Baby Mine 
 
 with that he strode out of the room and banged 
 the study door behind him. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! " gasped Aggie. She 
 looked after Alfred, then at Jimmy. She was the 
 picture of consternation. " What's the matter 
 with him ? " she asked. 
 
 " Just another little family tiff," answered 
 Jimmy, trying to assume a nonchalant manner. 
 
 " Not about you! " gasped Aggie. 
 
 " Me ! " cried Jimmy, his equilibrium again up- 
 set. " Certainly not ! " he declared. " What an 
 idea!" 
 
 "Yes, wasn't it?" answered Aggie. "That 
 just shows how silly one can be. I almost 
 thought Alfred was going to say that Zoie had 
 lunched with you." 
 
 " Me? " again echoed Jimmy, and he wondered 
 if everybody in the world had conspired to make 
 him the target of their attention. He caught 
 Aggie's eye and tried to laugh carelessly. 
 " That would have been funny, wouldn't it ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, wouldn't it," repeated Aggie, and he 
 thought he detected a slight uneasiness in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Speaking of lunch," added Jimmy quickly, 
 " I think, dearie, that I'll come home for lunch 
 in the future." 
 
 " What? " exclaimed Aggie in great amaze- 
 ment.
 
 Baby Mine 53 
 
 " Those downtown places upset my digestion," 
 explained Jimmy quickly. 
 
 " Isn't this very sudden" she asked, and again 
 Jimmy fancied that there was a shade of suspi- 
 cion in her tone. 
 
 His face assumed a martyred expression. 
 " Of course, dear," he said, " if you insist upon 
 my eating downtown, I'll do it; but I thought 
 you'd be glad to have me at home." 
 
 Aggie turned to him with real concern. 
 " Why, Jimmy," she said, " what's the matter 
 with you? " She took a step toward him and 
 anxiously studied his face. " I never heard you 
 talk like that before. I don't think you're well." 
 
 "That's just what I'm telling you," insisted 
 Jimmy vehemently, excited beyond all reason by 
 receiving even this small bit of sympathy. " I'm 
 ill," he declared. No sooner had he made the 
 declaration than he began to believe in it. His 
 doleful countenance increased Aggie's alarm. 
 
 " My angel-face," she purred, and she took his 
 chubby cheeks in her hands and looked down at 
 him fondly. " You know I always want you to 
 come home." She stooped and kissed Jimmy's 
 pouting lips. He held up his face for more. 
 She smoothed the hair from his worried brow 
 and endeavoured to cheer him. " I'll run right 
 home now," she said, " and tell cook to get some- 
 thing nice and tempting for you ! I can see Zoie 
 later."
 
 54 Baby Mine 
 
 " It doesn't matter," murmured Jimmy, as he 
 followed her toward the door with a doleful shake 
 of his head. " I don't suppose I shall ever en- 
 joy my luncheon again as long as I live." 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Aggie, " come along."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 WHEN Alfred returned to the living room he 
 was followed by his secretary, who carried two 
 well-filled satchels. His temper was not im- 
 proved by the discovery that he had left certain 
 important papers at his office. Dispatching his 
 man to get them and to meet him at the station 
 with them, he collected a few remaining letters 
 from the drawer of the writing table, then uneasy 
 at remaining longer under the same roof with 
 Zoie, he picked up his hat, and started to- 
 ward the hallway. For the first time his 
 eye was attracted by a thick layer of dust and 
 lint on his coat sleeve. Worse still, there was 
 a smudge on his cuff. If there was one thing 
 more than another that Alfred detested it was un- 
 tidiness. Putting his hat down with a bang, he 
 tried to flick the dust from his sleeve with his 
 pocket handkerchief; finding this impossible, 
 he removed his coat and began to shake it vio- 
 lently. 
 
 It was at this particular moment that Zoie's 
 small face appeared cautiously from behind the 
 frame of the bedroom door. She was quick to 
 perceive Alfred's plight. Disappearing from view 
 for an instant, she soon reappeared with Al- 
 
 55
 
 56 Baby Mine 
 
 fred's favourite clothes-brush. She tiptoed into 
 the room. 
 
 Barely had Alfred drawn his coat on his shoul- 
 ders, when he was startled by a quick little flutter 
 of the brush on his sleeve. He turned in sur- 
 prise and beheld Zoie, who looked up at him as 
 penitent and irresistible as a newly-punished 
 child. 
 
 " Oh," snarled Alfred, and he glared at her as 
 though he would enjoy strangling her on the spot. 
 
 " Alfred," pouted Zoie, and he knew she was go- 
 ing to add her customary appeal of " Let's make 
 up." But Alfred was in no mood for nonsense. 
 He thrust his hands in his pockets and made 
 straight for the outer doorway. 
 
 Smiling to herself as she saw him leaving with- 
 out his hat, Zoie slipped it quickly beneath a 
 flounce of her skirt. No sooner had Alfred reached 
 the sill of the door than his hand went involun- 
 tarily to his head ; he turned to the table where he 
 had left his hat. His face wore a puzzled look. 
 He glanced beneath the table, in the chair, behind 
 the table, across the piano, and then he began cir- 
 cling the room with pent up rage. He dashed into 
 his study and out again, he threw the chairs about 
 with increasing irritation, then giving up the 
 search, he started hatless toward the hallway. 
 It was then that a soft babyish voice reached his 
 ear. 
 
 " Have you lost something, dear? " cooed Zoie.
 
 Baby Mine 57 
 
 Alfred hesitated. It was difficult to lower his 
 dignity by answering her, but he needed his head- 
 gear. " I want my hat," he admitted shortly. 
 
 " Your hat ? " repeated Zoie innocently and she 
 glanced around the room with mild interest. 
 " Maybe Mary took it." 
 
 " Mary ! " cried Alfred, and thinking the mys- 
 tery solved, he dashed toward the inner hallway. 
 
 " Let me get it, dear," pleaded Zoie, and she 
 laid a small detaining hand upon his arm as he 
 passed. 
 
 " Stop it ! " commanded Alfred hotly, and he 
 shook the small hand from his sleeve as though it 
 had been something poisonous. 
 
 " But Allie," protested Zoie, pretending to be 
 shocked and grieved. 
 
 "Don't you 'but Allie 5 me," cried Alfred, 
 turning upon her sharply. " All I want is my 
 hat," and again he started in search of Mary. 
 
 " But but but Allie," stammered Zoie, as 
 she followed him. 
 
 " But but but," repeated Alfred, turning on 
 her in a fury. " You've butted me out of every- 
 thing that I wanted all my life, but you're not 
 going to do it again." 
 
 " You see, you said it yourself," laughed Zoie. 
 
 " Said what? " roared Alfred. 
 
 " But," tittered Zoie. 
 
 The remnants of Alfred's self-control were for- 
 saking him. He clinched his fists hard in a final
 
 58 Baby Mine 
 
 effort toward restraint. " You'd just as well 
 stop all these baby tricks," he threatened between 
 his teeth, " they're not going to work. This 
 time my mind is made up." 
 
 " Then why are you afraid to talk to me? " 
 asked Zoie sweetly. 
 
 "Who said I was afraid?" demanded Alfred 
 hotly. 
 
 " You act like it," declared Zoie, with some 
 
 truth on her side. " You don't want " she 
 
 got no further. 
 
 " All I want," interrupted Alfred, " is to get 
 out of this house once and for all and to stay out 
 of it." And again he started in pursuit of his 
 hat. 
 
 " Why, Allie," she gazed at him with deep re- 
 proach. " You liked this place so much when 
 we first came here." 
 
 Again Alfred picked at the lint on his coat 
 sleeve. Edging her way toward him cautiously 
 she ventured to touch his sleeve with the brush. 
 
 " I'll attend to that myself," he said curtly, 
 and he sank into the nearest chair to tie a re- 
 fractory shoe lace. 
 
 " Let me brush you, dear," pleaded Zoie. " I 
 don't wish you to start out in the world looking 
 unbrushed," she pouted. Then with a sly em- 
 phasis she added teasingly, " The other women 
 might not admire you that way." 
 
 Alfred broke his shoe string then and there.
 
 Baby Mine 59 
 
 While he stooped to tie a knot in it, Zoie man- 
 aged to perch on the arm of his chair. 
 
 " You know, Allie," she continued coaxingly, 
 " no one could ever love you as I do." 
 
 Again Alfred broke his shoe lace. 
 
 " Oh, Allie! " she exclaimed with a little ripple 
 of childish laughter, " do you remember how ab- 
 surdly poor we were when we were first married, 
 and how you refused to take any help from your 
 family? And do you remember that silly old 
 pair of black trousers that used to get so thin on 
 the knees and how I used to put shoe-blacking un- 
 derneath so the white wouldn't show through? " 
 By this time her arm managed to get around his 
 neck. 
 
 " Stop it ! " shrieked Alfred as though mortal 
 man could endure no more. " You've used those 
 trousers to settle every crisis in our lives." 
 
 Zoie gazed at him without daring to breathe; 
 even she was aghast at his fury, but only tempo- 
 rarily. She recovered herself and continued 
 sweetly : 
 
 " If everything is settled," she argued, 
 "where's the harm in talking? " 
 
 " We've done with talking," declared Alfred. 
 " From this on, I act." And determined not to 
 be cheated out of this final decision, he again 
 started for the hall door. 
 
 " Oh, Allie ! " cried Zoie in a tone of sharp 
 alarm.
 
 60 Baby Mine 
 
 In spite of himself Alfred turned to learn the 
 cause of her anxiety. 
 
 " You haven't got your overshoes on," she 
 said. 
 
 Speechless with rage, Alfred continued on his 
 way, but Zoie moved before him swiftly. " I'll 
 get them for you, dear," she volunteered gra- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Stop ! " thundered Alfred. They were now 
 face to face. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't roar like that," pouted 
 Zoie, and the pink tips of her fingers were thrust 
 tight against her ears. 
 
 Alfred drew in his breath and endeavoured for 
 the last time to repress his indignation. " Either 
 you can't, or you won't understand that it is ex- 
 tremely unpleasant for me to even talk to you 
 much less to receive your attentions." 
 
 " Very likely," answered Zoie, unperturbed. 
 " But so long as I am your lawful wedded 
 
 wife " she emphasised the "lawful" "I 
 
 shan't let any harm come to you, if I can help it." 
 She lifted her eyes to heaven bidding it to bear 
 witness to her martyrdom and looking for all 
 the world like a stained glass saint. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " shouted Alfred, almost hysterical at 
 his apparent failure to make himself understood. 
 " You wouldn't let any harm come to me. Oh, no. 
 You've only made me the greatest joke in Chi- 
 cago," he shouted. " You've only made me such
 
 Baby Mine 61 
 
 a laughing stock that I have to leave it. That's 
 all that's all ! " 
 
 " Leave Chicago ! " exclaimed Zoie incredu- 
 lously. Then regaining her self-composure, she 
 edged her way close to him and looked up into 
 his eyes in baby-like wonderment. " Why, Allie, 
 where are we going? " Her small arm crept up 
 toward his shoulder. Alfred pushed it from him 
 rudely. 
 
 " We are not going," he asserted in a firm, 
 measured voice. " 7 am going. Where's my 
 hat? " And again he started in search of his 
 absent headgear. 
 
 " Oh, Allie ! " she exclaimed, and this time there 
 was genuine alarm in her voice, " you wouldn't 
 leave me? " 
 
 "Wouldn't I, though?" sneered Alfred. Be- 
 fore he knew it, Zoie's arms were about him she 
 was pleading desperately. 
 
 " Now see here, Allie, you may call me all the 
 names you like," she cried with great self-abase- 
 ment, " but you shan't you shan't go away from 
 Chicago." 
 
 " Oh, indeed? " answered Alfred as he shook 
 himself free of her. " I suppose you'd like me to 
 go on witli this cat and dog existence. You'd like 
 me to stay right here and pay the bills and take 
 care of you, while you flirt with every Tom, Dick 
 and Harry in town." 
 
 " It's only your horrid disposition that makes
 
 62 Baby Mine 
 
 you talk like that," whimpered Zoie. " You 
 know very well that I never cared for anybody 
 but you." 
 
 " Until you got me, yes," assented Alfred, 
 " and now you care far everybody but me." 
 She was about to object, but he continued 
 quickly. " Where you meet your gentlemen 
 friends is beyond me. I don't introduce them to 
 you." 
 
 " I should say not," agreed Zoie, and there was 
 a touch of vindictiveness in her voice. " The 
 only male creature that you ever introduced to 
 me was the family dog." 
 
 " I introduce every man who's fit to meet you," 
 declared Alfred with an air of great pride. 
 
 " That doesn't speak very well for your ac- 
 quaintances," snipped Zoie. Even her temper 
 was beginning to assert itself. 
 
 " I won't bicker like this," declared Alfred. 
 
 " That's what you always say, when you can't 
 think of an answer," retorted Zoie. 
 
 " You mean when I'm tired of answering your 
 nonsense ! " thundered Alfred.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 REALISING that she was rapidly losing ground 
 by exercising her advantage over Alfred in the 
 matter of quick retort, Zoie, with her cus- 
 tomary cunning, veered round to a more concil- 
 iatory tone. " Well," she cooed, " suppose I did 
 eat lunch with a man ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " shrieked Alfred, as though he had at 
 last run his victim to earth. 
 
 She retreated with her finders crossed. " I 
 only said suppose," she reminded him quickly. 
 Then she continued in a tone meant to draw from 
 him his heart's most secret confidence. " Didn't 
 you ever eat lunch with any woman but me? " 
 
 " Never ! " answered Alfred firmly. 
 
 There was an unmistakable expression of 
 pleasure on Zoie's small face, but she forced back 
 the smile that was trying to creep round her lips, 
 and sidled toward Alfred, with eyes properly 
 downcast. " Then I'm very sorry I did it," she 
 said solemnly, " and I'll never do it again." 
 
 " So ! " cried Alfred with renewed indignation. 
 "You admit it?" 
 
 " Just to please you, dear," explained Zoie 
 sweetly, as though she were doing him the great- 
 est possible favour. 
 
 63
 
 64 Baby Mine 
 
 "To please me?" gasped Alfred. "Do you 
 suppose it pleases me to know that you are car- 
 rying on the moment my back is turned, making 
 a fool of me to my friends? " 
 
 " Your friends ? " cried Zoie with a sneer. 
 This time it was her turn to be angry. " So ! 
 It's your friends that are worrying you ! " In 
 her excitement she tossed Alfred's now damaged 
 hat into the chair just behind her. He was far 
 too overwrought to see it. " I haven't done you 
 any harm," she continued wildly. " It's only 
 what you think your friends think." 
 
 " You haven't done me any harm? " repeated 
 Alfred, in her same tragic key, " Oh no ! Oh no ! 
 You've only cheated me out of everything I ex- 
 pected to get out of life ! That's all ! " 
 
 Zoie came to a full stop and waited for him 
 to enumerate the various treasures that he had 
 lost by marrying her. He did so. 
 
 " Before we were married," he continued, " you 
 pretended to adore children. You started your 
 humbugging the first day I met you. I refer to 
 little Willie Peck." 
 
 A hysterical giggle very nearly betrayed her. 
 Alfred continued: 
 
 " I was fool enough to let you know that I ad- 
 mire women who like children. From that day 
 until the hour that I led you to the altar, you'd 
 fondle the ugliest little brats that we met in the 
 street, but the moment you got me
 
 Baby Mine 6$ 
 
 " Alfred ! " gasped Zoie. This was realty go- 
 ing too far. 
 
 " Yes, I repeat it!" shouted Alfred, pounding 
 the table with his fist for emphasis. " The mo- 
 ment you got me, you declared that all children 
 were horrid little insects, and that someone 
 ought to sprinkle bug-powder on them." 
 
 " Ohi " protested Zoie, shocked less by Alfred's 
 interpretation of her sentiments, than by the vul- 
 garity with which he expressed them. 
 
 " On another occasion," declared Alfred, now 
 carried away by the recital of his long pent up 
 wrongs, " you told me that all babies should 
 be put in cages, shipped West, and kept in pens 
 until they got to be of an interesting age. ' In- 
 teresting age!' he repeated with a sneer, 
 " meaning old enough to take you out to lunch- 
 eon, I suppose." 
 
 " I never said any such thing," objected Zoie. 
 
 " Well, that was the idea," insisted Alfred. 
 " I haven't your glib way of expressing myself." 
 
 " You manage to express yourself very well," 
 retorted Zoie. " When you have anything dis- 
 agreeable to say. As for babies," she continued 
 tentatively, " I think they are all very well in their 
 place, but they were never meant for an apart- 
 ment." 
 
 " I offered you a house in the country," 
 shouted Alfred. 
 
 " The country ! " echoed Zoie. " How could
 
 66 Baby Mine 
 
 I live in the country, with people being murdered 
 in their beds every night? Read the papers." 
 
 " Always an excuse," sighed Alfred resignedly. 
 " There always has been and there always would 
 be if I'd stay to listen. Well, for once," he de- 
 clared, " I'm glad "that we have no children. If 
 we had, I might feel some obligation to keep up 
 this farce of a marriage. As it is," he contin- 
 ued, " you are free and / am free." And with a 
 courtly wave of his arm, he dismissed Zoie and 
 the entire subject, and again he started in pur- 
 suit of Mary and his hat. 
 
 " If it's your freedom you wish," pouted Zoie 
 with an abused air, " you might have said so in 
 the first place." 
 
 Alfred stopped in sheer amazement at the clev- 
 erness with which the little minx turned his every 
 statement against him. 
 
 " It's not very manly of you," she continued, 
 " to abuse me just because you've found someone 
 whom you like better." 
 
 " That's not true," protested Alfred hotly, 
 " and you know it's not true." Little did he sus- 
 pect the trap into which she was leading him. 
 
 *' Then you don't love anybody more than you 
 do me? " she cried eagerly, and she gazed up at 
 him with adoring eyes. 
 
 " I didn't say any such thing," hedged Alfred. 
 
 " Then you do," she accused him. 
 
 " I don't," he declared in self defence.
 
 Baby Mine 67 
 
 With a cry of joy, she sprang into his arms, 
 clasped her fingers tightly behind his neck, and 
 rained impulsive kisses upon his unsuspecting 1 
 face. 
 
 For an instant, Alfred looked down at Zoie, 
 undecided whether to strangle her or to re- 
 turn 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 to- 
 ward 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. Snatching 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.
 
 68 Baby Mine 
 
 " 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 per- 
 son, 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 re- 
 mark, 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 re- 
 sounding whack, he rushed from her sight. 
 
 The clang of the closing elevator door brought 
 Zoie to a realisation of what had actually hap- 
 pened. Determined that Alfred should not es-
 
 Baby Mine 69 
 
 cape 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 passing taxi. " Al- 
 fred ! " 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 hus- 
 band 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 re- 
 ceiver 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 ag- 
 gravatingly 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 col- 
 lapse, 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 fore- 
 head. 
 
 "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 
 70
 
 Baby Mine 71 
 
 she lifted her head and regarded Aggie with sud- 
 den uneasiness. Her friend's answer raised 
 Jimmy considerably in Zoie's esteem. Appar- 
 ently 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 aim- 
 lessly 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 con- 
 fidence 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 diplo- 
 matically. 
 
 " He says I ' hurt his soul.' Whatever that
 
 72 Baby Mine 
 
 is," answered Zoie, and her face wore an injured 
 expression. " Isn't that a nice excuse," she con- 
 tinued, " 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 care- 
 lessly ; " 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 trou- 
 ble. 
 
 " 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 impa- 
 tiently. " 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," an- 
 swered Zoie with an aggrieved tone. " It's the 
 first time since I've been married that I've ever
 
 Baby Mine 73 
 
 eaten lunch with any man but Alfred. I thought 
 you'd have a little sympathy with me," she whim- 
 pered, " instead of putting me on the gridiron 
 like everyone else does." 
 
 "Everyone else?" questioned Aggie, with re- 
 curring suspicion. 
 
 " I mean Alfred," explained Zoie. " He'* 
 1 everyone else ' to me." And then with a sud- 
 den abandonment of grief, she threw herself pros- 
 trate at her friend's knees. " Oh, Aggie, what 
 can I do ? " she cried. 
 
 But Aggie was not satisfied with Zoie's frag- 
 mentary account of her latest escapade. " Is 
 that the only thing that Alfred has against 
 you? " she asked. 
 
 " That's the latest," sniffled Zoie, in a heap at 
 Aggie's feet. And then she continued in a nv.ch 
 aggrieved tone, " You know he', always rowing 
 because we haven't as many baoies as the cook 
 has cats." 
 
 " Well, why don't you get him a baby? " asked 
 the practical, far-seeing Aggie. 
 
 " It's too late now" moaned Zoie. 
 
 " Not at all," reassured Aggio. " It's the very 
 thing that would bring him back." 
 
 "How could I get one?" questioned Zoie, and 
 she looked up at Aggie with round astonished 
 eyes. 
 
 " Adopt it," answered Aggie decisively. 
 
 Zoie regarded her friend with mingled disgust
 
 74 Baby Mine 
 
 and disappointment. " No," she said with a sigh 
 and a shake of her head, " that wouldn't do any 
 good. Alfred's so fussy. He always wants his 
 owji things around." 
 
 " He needn't know," declared Aggie boldly. 
 
 " What do you mean? " whispered Zoie. 
 
 Drawing herself up with an air of great im- 
 portance, and regarding the wondering young 
 person at her knee with smiling condescension, 
 Aggie prepared to make a most interesting dis- 
 closure. 
 
 " There was a long article in the paper only 
 this morning," she told Zoie, " saying that three 
 thousand husbands in this very city are fondling 
 babies not their own." 
 
 Zoie turned her small head to one side, the 
 better to study Aggie's face. It was appar- 
 ent to the latter that she must be much more ex- 
 plicit. 
 
 " Babies adopted in their absence," explained 
 Aggie, " while they were on trips around the 
 country." 
 
 A dangerous light began to glitter in Zoie's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Aggie ! " she cried, bringing her small hands 
 together excitedly, " do you think I could? " 
 
 "Why not?" asked Aggie, with a very su- 
 perior air. Zoie's enthusiasm was increasing her 
 friend's admiration of her own scheme. " This 
 same paper tells of a woman who adopted three
 
 Baby Mine 75 
 
 sons while her husband was in Europe, and he 
 thinks each one of them is his." 
 
 "Where can we get some?" cried Zoie, now 
 thoroughly enamoured of the idea. 
 
 " You can always get tons of them at the Chil- 
 dren's Home," answered Aggie confidently. 
 
 " I can't endure babies," declared Zoie, " but 
 I'd do anything to get Alfred back. Can we get 
 one to-day? " she asked. 
 
 Aggie looked at her small friend with positive 
 pity. " You don't want one to-day," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 Zoie rolled her large eyes inquiringly. 
 
 " If you were to get one to-day," continued 
 Aggie, " Alfred would know it wasn't yours, 
 wouldn't he? " 
 
 A light of understanding began to show on 
 Zoie's small features. 
 
 " There was none when he left this morning," 
 added Aggie. 
 
 " That's true," acquiesced Zoie. 
 
 " You must wait awhile," counselled Aggie, 
 " and then get a perfectly new one." 
 
 But Zoie had never been taught to wait. 
 
 " Now Aggie " she began. 
 
 Aggie continued without heeding her. 
 
 " After a few months," she explained, " when 
 Alfred's temper has had time to cool, we'll get 
 Jimmy to send him a wire that he has an heir." 
 
 " A few months ! " exclaimed Zoie, as though
 
 76 Baby Mine 
 
 Aggie had suggested an eternity. " I've never 
 been away from Alfred that long in all my life." 
 
 Aggie was visibly annoyed. " Well, of 
 course," she said coldly, as she rose to go, " if 
 you can get Alfred back without that " 
 
 " But I can't ! " cried Zoie, and she clung to 
 her friend as to her last remaining hope. 
 
 " Then," answered Aggie, somewhat mollified 
 by Zcrie's complete submission. " This is the 
 only way. The President of the Children's Home 
 is a great friend of Jimmy's," she said proudly. 
 
 It was at this point that Zoie made her first 
 practical suggestion. " Then we'll let Jimmy 
 get it," she declared. 
 
 " Of course," agreed Aggie enthusiastically, as 
 though they would be according the poor soul a 
 rare privilege. " Jimmy gives a hundred dollars 
 to the Home every Christmas," additional proof 
 why he should be selected for this very impor- 
 tant office. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " exclaimed Zoie with shocked 
 surprise. " If Alfred were to give a hundred dol- 
 lars to a Baby's Home, I should suspect him." 
 
 " Don't be silly ! " snapped Aggie curtly. In 
 spite of her firm faith in Jimmy's innocence, she 
 was undoubtedly annoyed by Zoie's unpleas- 
 ant suggestion. 
 
 There was an instant's pause, then putting dis- 
 agreeable thoughts from her mind, Aggie turned 
 to Zoie with renewed enthusiasm.
 
 Baby Mine 77 
 
 " We must get down to business," she said, 
 " we'll begin on the baby's outfit at once." 
 
 "It's what?" queried Zoie. 
 
 " It's clothes," explained Aggie. 
 
 " Oh, what fun ! " exclaimed Zoie, and she 
 clapped her hands merrily like a very small 
 child. A moment later she stopped with sudden 
 misgiving. 
 
 " But, Aggie," she said fearfully, " suppose 
 Alfred shouldn't come back after I've got the 
 baby? I'd be a widow with a child." 
 
 " Oh, he's sure to come back ! " answered Ag- 
 gie, with a confident air. " He'll take the first 
 train, home." 
 
 " I believe he will," assented Zoie joyfully. 
 All her clouds were again dispelled. " Aggie," 
 she cried impulsively, " you are a darling. 
 You have just saved my life." And she clasped 
 her arms so tightly around Aggie's neck that her 
 friend was in danger of being suffocated. 
 
 Releasing herself Aggie continued with a ruf- 
 fled collar and raised vanity : " You can write him 
 an insinuating letter now and then, just to lead 
 up to the good news gradually." 
 
 Zoie tipped her small head to one side and 
 studied her friend thoughtfully. " Do you 
 know, Aggie," she said, with frank admiration, " I 
 believe you are a better liar than I am." 
 
 " I'm not a liar," objected Aggie vehemently, 
 " at least, not often," she corrected. " I've
 
 78 Baby Mine 
 
 never lied to Jimmy in all my life." She drew 
 herself up with conscious pride. " And Jimmy 
 has never lied to me." 
 
 " Isn't that nice," sniffed Zoie and she pre- 
 tended to be searching for her pocket-handker- 
 chief. 
 
 But Aggie did not see her. She was glancing 
 at the clock. 
 
 " I must go now," she said. And she started 
 toward the door. 
 
 "But, Aggie " protested Zoie, unwilling to 
 
 be left alone. 
 
 " I'll run in again at tea time," promised Ag- 
 gie. 
 
 " I don't mind the days" whined Zoie, " but 
 when night comes I just must have somebody's 
 arms around me." 
 
 " Zoie ! " gasped Aggie, both shocked and 
 alarmed. 
 
 " I can't help it," confessed Zoie ; " the moment 
 it gets dark I'm just scared stiff." 
 
 " That's no way for a mother to talk," re- 
 proved Aggie. 
 
 " A mother ! " exclaimed Zoie, horrified at the 
 sudden realisation that this awful appellation 
 would undoubtedly pursue her for the rest of her 
 life. "Oh, don't call me that," she pleaded. 
 " You make me feel a thousand years old." 
 
 " Nonsense," laughed Aggie, and before Zoie 
 could again detain her she was out of the room.
 
 Baby Mine 79 
 
 When the outside door had closed behind her 
 friend, Zoie gazed about the room disconsolately, 
 but her depression was short-lived. Remember- 
 ing Aggie's permission about the letter, she ran 
 quickly to the writing table, curled her small self 
 up on one foot, placed a brand new pen in the 
 holder, then drew a sheet of paper toward her 
 and, with shoulders hunched high and her face 
 close to the paper after the manner of a child, 
 she began to pen the first of a series of veiled 
 communications that were ultimately to fill her 
 young husband with amazement.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 WHEN Jimmy reached his office after his un- 
 foreseen call upon Zoie, his subsequent encounter 
 with Alfred, and his enforced luncheon at home 
 with Aggie, he found his mail, his 'phone calls, 
 and his neglected appointments in a state of 
 hopeless congestion, and try as he would, he 
 could not concentrate upon their disentangle- 
 ment. Growing more and more furious with the 
 long legged secretary who stood at, the corner 
 of his desk, looking down upon him expectantly, 
 and waiting for his tardy instructions, Jimmy 
 rose and looked out of the window. He could 
 feel Andrew's reproachful eyes following him. 
 
 "Shall Miss Perkins take your letters now?" 
 asked Andrew, and he wondered how late the of- 
 fice staff would be kept to-night to make up for 
 the time that was now being wasted. 
 
 Coming after repeated wounds from his near- 
 est and dearest, Andrew's implied reproach was 
 too much for Jimmy's overwrought nerves. 
 "Get out!" he answered unceremoniously. And 
 when Andrew could assure himself that he had 
 heard aright, he stalked out of the door with his 
 head high in the air. 
 
 Jimmy looked after his departing secretary 
 80
 
 Baby Mine 81 
 
 with positive hatred. It was apparent to him 
 that the whole world was against him. He had 
 been too easy he decided. His family, friends, 
 and business associates had undoubtedly lost all 
 respect for him. From this day forth he was 
 determined to show himself to be a man of strong 
 mettle. 
 
 Having made this important decision and hav- 
 ing convinced himself that he was about to start 
 on a new life, Jimmy strode to the door of the 
 office and, without disturbing the injured An- 
 drew, he called sharply to Miss Perkins to come 
 at once and take his letters. 
 
 Poor Jimmy! Again he tried in vain to con- 
 centrate upon the details of the " cut-glass " in- 
 dustry. Invariably his mind would wander back 
 to the unexpected incidents of the morning. 
 Stopping suddenly in the middle of a letter to a 
 competing firm, he began pacing hurriedly up 
 and down the room. 
 
 Had she not feared that her chief might mis- 
 construe any suggestion from her as an act of 
 impertinence, Miss Perkins, having learned all 
 the company's cut-glass quotations by rote, could 
 easily have supplied the remainder of the letter. 
 As it was, she waited impatiently, tapping the 
 corner of the desk with her idle pencil. Jimmy 
 turned at the sound, and glanced at the pencil 
 with unmistakable disapproval. Miss Perkins 
 waited in silence. After one or two more uneasy
 
 82 Baby Mine 
 
 laps about the room, Jimmy went to his 'phone 
 and called his house number. 
 
 " It's undoubtedly domestic trouble," decided 
 Miss Perkins, and she wondered whether it would 
 be delicate of her, under the circumstances, to 
 remain in the room. 
 
 From her employer's conversation at the 
 'phone, it was clear to Miss Perkins that Mrs. 
 Jinks was spending the afternoon with Mrs. 
 Hardy, but why this should have so annoyed 
 Mr. Jinks was a question that Miss Perkins 
 found it difficult to answer. Was it possible that 
 Mr. Jinks's present state of unrest could be 
 traced to the door of the beautiful young wife of 
 his friend? "Oh dear," thought Miss Perkins, 
 " how scandalous ! " 
 
 " That will do," commanded Jimmy, interrupt- 
 ing Miss Perkins's interesting speculations, and 
 he nodded toward the door. 
 
 " But ' stammered Miss Perkins, as she 
 
 glanced at the unfinished letters. 
 
 " I'll call you when I need you," answered 
 Jimmy gruffly. Miss Perkins left the room in 
 high dudgeon. 
 
 " PI! show them," said Jimmy to himself, de- 
 termined to carry out his recent resolve to be 
 firm. 
 
 Then his mind went back to his domestic 
 troubles. " Suppose, that Zoie, after im- 
 posing secrecy upon him, should change that
 
 Baby Mine 83 
 
 thing called her * mind ' and confide in Ag- 
 gie about the luncheon? " Jimmy was positively 
 pale. He decided to telephone to Zoie's house 
 and find out how affairs were progressing. At 
 the 'phone he hesitated. " If Aggie lias found 
 out about the luncheon," he argued, " my 'phon- 
 ing to Zoie's will increase her suspicions. If 
 Zoie has told her nothing, she'll wonder why I'm 
 'phoning to Zoie's house. There's only one thing 
 to do," he decided. " I must wait and say noth- 
 ing. I can tell from Aggie's face when I meet 
 her at dinner whether Zoie has betrayed 
 me." 
 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, Jimmy re- 
 solved to get home as early as possible, and 
 again Miss Perkins was called to his aid. 
 
 The flurry with which Jimmy despatched the 
 day's remaining business confirmed both Miss 
 Perkins and Andrew in their previous opinion 
 that " the boss " had suddenly " gone off his 
 head." And when he at last left the office and 
 banged the door behind him there was a general 
 sigh of relief from his usually tranquil staff. 
 
 Instead of walking, as was his custom, Jimmy 
 took a taxi to his home but alas, to his sur- 
 prise he found no wife. 
 
 " Did Mrs. Jinks leave any word? " he in- 
 quired from the butler. 
 
 " None at all," answered) that unperturbed 
 creature; and Jimmy felt sure that the attitude
 
 84 Baby Mine 
 
 of his office antagonists had communicated itself 
 to his household servants. 
 
 When Jimmy's anxious ear at last caught the 
 rustle of a woman's dress in the hallway, his din- 
 ner had been waiting half an hour, and he had 
 worked himself into a state of fierce antagonism 
 toward everything and everybody. 
 
 At the sound of Aggie's voice however, his 
 heart began to pound with fear. " Had she 
 found him out for the weak miserable deceiver 
 that he was? Would she tell him that they were 
 going to separate forever? " 
 
 Aggie's first words were reassuring. " Aw- 
 fully sorry to be so late, dear," she said. 
 
 Jimmy felt her kiss upon his chubby cheek and 
 her dear arms about his neck. He decided forth- 
 with to tell her everything, and never, never 
 again to run the risk of deceiving her; but 
 before he could open his lips, she continued 
 gaily: 
 
 " I've brought Zoie home with me, dear. 
 There's no sense in her eating all alone, and she's 
 going to have all her dinners with us." Jimmy 
 groaned. " After dinner," continued Aggie, 
 " you and I can take her to the theatre and all 
 those places and keep her cheered until Alfred 
 comes home." 
 
 "Home?" repeated Jimmy in alarm. Was it 
 possible that Alfred had already relented? 
 
 " Oh, he doesn't know it yet," explained Aggie,
 
 Baby Mine 85 
 
 " but he's coming. We'll tell you all about it 
 at dinner." And they did. 
 
 While waiting for Aggie. Jimmy had thought 
 himself hungry, but once the two women had laid 
 before him their " nefarious baby-snatching 
 scheme " food lost its savour for him, and one 
 course after another was taken away from him 
 untouched. 
 
 Each time that Jimmy ventured a mild objec- 
 tion to his part in the plan, as scheduled by them, 
 he met the threatening eye of Zoie; and by the 
 time that the three left the table he was so har- 
 assed and confused by the chatter of the two 
 excited women, that he was not only reconciled 
 but eager to enter into any scheme that might 
 bring Alfred back, and free him of the enforced 
 companionship of Alfred's nerve-racking wife. 
 True, he reflected, it was possible that Alfred, 
 on his return, might discover him to be the cul- 
 prit who lunched with Zoie and might carry out 
 his murderous threat; but even such a fate was 
 certainly preferable to interminable evenings 
 spent under the same roof with Zoie. 
 
 " All you need do, Jimmy," explained Aggie 
 sweetly, when the three of them were comfortably 
 settled in the library, " is to see your friend the 
 Superintendent of the Babies' Home, and tell him 
 just what kind of a baby we shall need, and when 
 we shall need it." 
 
 " Can't we see it ourselves? " chimed in Zoie.
 
 86 Baby Mine 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed," said Aggie confidently, and 
 she turned to Jimmy with a matter-of-fact tone. 
 " You'd better tell the Superintendent to have 
 several for us to look at when the time arrives.'* 
 
 " Yes, that's better," agreed Zoie. 
 
 As for Jimmy, he had long ceased to make any 
 audible comment, but internally he was saying to 
 himself: "man of strong mettle, indeed!" 
 
 " We'll attend to all the clothes for the child," 
 said Aggie generously to Jimmy. 
 
 " I want everything to be hand-made," ex- 
 claimed Zoie enthusiastically. 
 
 " We can make a great many of the things our- 
 selves, evenings," said Aggie, " while we sit here 
 and talk to Jimmy." 
 
 " I thought we were going out evenings ! " ob- 
 jected Zoie. 
 
 Jimmy rolled his eyes toward her like a dumb 
 beast of burden. 
 
 " Most evenings," assented Aggie. " And 
 
 then toward the last, you know, Zoie " she 
 
 hesitated to explain further, for Jimmy was al- 
 ready becoming visibly embarrassed. 
 
 " Oh, yes, that's true," blushed Zoie. 
 
 There was an awkward pause, then Aggie 
 turned again toward Jimmy, who was pretending 
 to rebuild the fire. " Oh yes, one more thing," 
 she said. " When everything is quite ready for 
 Alfred's return, we'll allow you, Jimmy dear, to 
 wire him the good news."
 
 Baby Mine 87 
 
 " Thanks, so much," said Jimmy. 
 
 " I wish it were time to wire now," said Zoie 
 peiibively, and in his mind, Jimmy fervently 
 agreed with that sentiment. 
 
 " The next few months will slip by before you 
 know it," declared Aggie cheerfully. " And by 
 the way, Zoie," she added, " why should you go 
 back to your lonesome flat to-night? " 
 
 Zoie began to feel for her pocket handkerchief 
 Jimmy sat up to receive the next blow. " Stay 
 here with us," suggested Aggie. " We'll be so 
 glad to have you." She included Jimmy in her 
 glance. " Won't we, dear? " she asked. 
 
 When the two girls went upstairs arm in arm 
 that night, Jimmy remained in his chair by the 
 fire, too exhausted to even prepare for bed. " A 
 man of mettle ! " he said again to himself. 
 
 This had certainly been the longest day of his 
 life.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 WHEN Aggie predicted that the few months of 
 waiting would pass quickly for Zoie, she was 
 quite correct. They passed quickly for Aggie 
 as well; but how about Jimmy? When he after- 
 ward recalled this interval in his life, it was al- 
 ways associated with long strands of lace wind- 
 ing around the legs of the library chairs, white 
 things lying about in all the places where he had 
 once enjoyed sitting or lying, late dinners, 
 lonely breakfasts, and a sense of isolation from 
 Aggie. 
 
 One evening when he had waited until he was 
 out of all patience with Aggie, he was told by his 
 late and apologetical spouse that she had been 
 helping Zoie to redecorate her bedroom to fit 
 the coming occasion. 
 
 " It is all done in pink and white," explained 
 Aggie, and then followed detailed accounts of the 
 exquisite bed linens, the soft lovely hangings, and 
 even the entire relighting of the room. 
 
 "Why pink?" asked Jimmy, objecting to any 
 scheme of Zoie's on general principles. 
 
 " It's Alfred's favourite colour," explained Ag- 
 gie. " Besides, it's so becoming," she added. 
 
 Jimmy could not help feeling that this lure to 
 88
 
 Baby Mine 89 
 
 Alfred's senses was absolutely indecent, and he 
 said so. 
 
 " Upon my word," answered Aggie, quite af- 
 fronted, " you are getting as unreasonable as 
 Alfred himself." Then as Jimmy prepared to 
 sull:, she added coaxingly, " I was going to tell 
 you about Zoie's lovely new negligee, and about 
 the dear little crib that just matches it. Every- 
 thing is going to be in harmony." 
 
 " With Zoie in the house? " asked Jimmy scep- 
 tically. 
 
 " I can't think why you've taken such a dis- 
 like to that helpless child," said Aggie. 
 
 A few days later, while in the midst of his 
 morning's mail, Jimmy was informed that it was 
 now time for him to conduct Aggie and Zoie to 
 the Babies' Home to select the last, but most im- 
 portant, detail for their coming campaign. Ac- 
 cording to instructions, Jimmy had been in com- 
 munication with the amused Superintendent of 
 the Home, and he now led the two women forth 
 with the proud consciousness that he, at least, 
 had attended properly to his part of the business. 
 By the time they reached the Children's Home, 
 several babies were on view for their critical in- 
 spection. 
 
 Zoie stared into the various cribs containing 
 the wee, red mites with puckered faces. " Oh 
 dear ! " she exclaimed, " haven't you any white 
 ones ? "
 
 90 Baby Mine 
 
 " These are supposed to be white," said the Su- 
 perintendent, with an indulgent smile, " the black 
 ones are on the other side of the room." 
 
 " Black ones ! " cried Zoie in horror, and she 
 faced about quickly as though expecting an at- 
 tack from their direction. 
 
 " Which particular one of these would you 
 recommend? " asked the practical Aggie of the 
 Superintendent as she surveyed the first lot. 
 
 " Well, it's largely a matter of taste, ma'am," 
 he answered. " This seems a healthy little 
 chap," he added, and seizing the long white 
 clothes of the nearest infant, he drew him across 
 his arm and held him out for Aggie's inspection. 
 
 " Let's see," cried Zoie, and she stood on 
 tiptoe to peep over the Superintendent's el- 
 bow. 
 
 As for Jimmy, he stood gloomily apart. This 
 was an ordeal for which he had long been prepar- 
 ing himself, and he was resolved to accept it philo- 
 sophically. 
 
 " I don't think much of that one," snipped 
 Zoie. And in spite of himself. Jimmy felt his 
 temper rising. 
 
 Aggie turned to him with a smile. " Which 
 one do you. prefer, Jimmy? " 
 
 " It's not my affair," answered Jimmy curtly. 
 
 ** Since when? " asked Zoie. 
 
 Aggie perceived trouble brewing, and she 
 turned to pacify Jimmy. " Which one do you
 
 Baby Mine 91 
 
 think your -friend Alfred would like? " she per- 
 sisted. 
 
 " If I were in his place " began Jimmy 
 
 hotly. 
 
 "Oh, but you aren't" interrupted Zoie; then 
 she turned to the Superintendent. " What 
 makes some of them so much larger than others? " 
 she asked, glancing at the babies he had called 
 " white." 
 
 " Well, you see they're of different ages," ex- 
 plained the Superintendent indulgently. 
 
 " We told Mr. Jinks they must all be of the 
 same age," said Zoie with a reproachful look at 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " What age is that ? " asked the Superinten- 
 dent. 
 
 "I should say a week old," said Aggie. 
 
 " Then this is the one for you," decided the Su- 
 perintendent, designating his first choice. 
 
 " I think we'd better take the Superintendent's 
 advice," said Aggie complacertly. 
 
 Zoie looked around the room with a dissatis- 
 fied air. Was it possible that all babies were as 
 homely a? these? 
 
 " You know, Zoie," explained Aggie, divining 
 her thought, " they get better looking as they 
 grow older." 
 
 " They couldn't look worse ! " was Zoie's dis- 
 gusted comment. 
 
 " Fetch it home, Jimmy," said Aggie.
 
 92 Baby Mine 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Jimmy, who had consid- 
 ered his mission completed. 
 
 " You don't expect us to carry it, do you ? " 
 asked Aggie in a hurt voice. 
 
 The Superintendent settled the difficulty tem- 
 porarily by informing them that the baby could 
 not possibly leave the home until the mother had 
 signed the necessary papers for its release. 
 
 " I thought all those details had been attended 
 to," said Aggie, and again the two women sur- 
 veyed Jimmy with grieved disappointment. 
 
 " I'll get the mother's signature the first thing 
 in the morning," volunteered the Superintendent. 
 
 " Very well," said Zoie, " and in the meantime, 
 I'll send some new clothes for it," and with a 
 lofty farewell to the Superintendent, she and 
 Aggie followed Jimmy down stairs to the taxi. 
 
 " Now," said Zoie, when they were properly 
 seated, "let's stop at a telegraph office and let 
 Jimmy send a wire to Alfred." 
 
 " Wait until we get the baby," cautioned Ag- 
 gie. 
 
 " We'll have it the first thing in the morning," 
 argued Zoie. 
 
 " Jimmy can send him a night-letter," com- 
 promised Aggie, " that way Alfred won't get the 
 news until morning." 
 
 A few minutes later, the taxi stopped in front 
 of Jimmy's office and with a sigh of thanksgiving 
 he hurried upstairs to his unanswered mail.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHEN Alfred Hardy found himself on the train 
 bound for Detroit, he tried to assure him- 
 self that he had done the right thing in breaking 
 away from an association that had kept him for 
 months in a constant state of ferment. His 
 business must come first, he decided. Having^ 
 settled this point to his temporary satisfaction, 
 he opened his afternoon paper and leaned back 
 in his seat, meaning to divert his mind from per- 
 sonal matters, by learning what was going on in 
 the world at large. 
 
 No sooner had his eye scanned the first head- 
 line than he was startled by a boisterous 
 greeting from a fellow traveller, who was just 
 passing down the aisle. 
 
 " Hello, Hardy ! " cried his well meaning 
 acquaintance. "Where are you bound for?" 
 
 " Detroit," answered Alfred, annoyed by the 
 sudden interruption. 
 
 "Where's the missus?" asked the intruder. 
 
 " Chicago," was Alfred's short reply. 
 
 " That's a funny thing," declared the convivial 
 spirit, not guessing how funny it really was. 
 :t You know," he continued, so loud that every-
 
 94 Baby Mine 
 
 one in the vicinity could not fail to hear him, 
 " the last time I met you two, you were on your 
 honeymoon on this very train," and with that 
 the fellow sat himself down, uninvited, by Alfred's 
 side and started on a long list of compliments 
 about " the fine little girl " who had in his opin- 
 ion done Alfred a great favour when she con- 
 sented to tie herself to a " dull, money-grubbing 
 chap " like him. 
 
 "So," thought Alfred, "this is the way the 
 world sees us." And he began to frame inaudi- 
 ble but desperate defences of himself. Again he 
 told himself that he was right; but his friend's 
 thoughtless words had planted an uncomfortable 
 doubt in his mind, and when he left the train to 
 drive to his hotel, he was thinking very little 
 about the new business relations upon which he 
 was entering in Detroit, and very much about the 
 domestic relations which he had just severed in 
 Chicago. 
 
 Had he been merely a " dull money-grubber " ? 
 Had he left his wife too much alone? Was she 
 not a mere child when he married her? Could 
 he not, with more consideration, have made of 
 her a more understanding companion? These 
 were questions that were still unanswered in his 
 mind when he arrived at one of Detroit's most 
 enterprising hotels. 
 
 But later, having telephoned to his office and 
 found that several matters of importance were
 
 Baby Mine 95 
 
 awaiting his decision, he forced himself to enter 
 immediately upon his business obligations. 
 
 As might have been expected, Alfred soon won 
 the respect and serious consideration of most of 
 his new business associates, and this in a measure 
 so mollified his hurt pride, that upon rare occa- 
 sions he was affable enough to accept the hospital- 
 ity of their homes. But each excursion that he 
 made into the social life of these new friends, only 
 served to remind him of the unsettled state of 
 his domestic affairs. 
 
 " How your wife must miss you ! " his hostess 
 would remark before they were fairly seated at 
 table. 
 
 " They tell me she is so pretty," his vis-a-vis 
 would exclaim. 
 
 " When is she going to join you? " the lady on 
 his left would ask. 
 
 Then his host would laugh and tell the " dear 
 ladies " that in his opinion, Alfred was afraid to 
 bring his wife to Detroit, lest he might lose her to 
 a handsomer man. 
 
 Alfred could never quite understand why re- 
 marks such as this annoyed him almost to the 
 point of declaring the whole truth. His leaving 
 Zoie, and his " losing " her, as these would-be 
 comedians expressed it, were two separate and 
 distinct things in his mind, and he felt an al- 
 most irresistible desire to make this plain to all 
 concerned.
 
 Mine 
 
 But no sooner did he open his lips to do so, 
 than a picture of Zoie in all her child-like plead- 
 ing loveliness, arose to dissuade him. He could 
 imagine his dinner companions all pretending to 
 sympathise with him, while they flayed poor Zoie 
 alive. She would never have another chance to 
 be known as a respectable woman, and compared 
 to most women of his acquaintance, she was a re- 
 spectable woman. True, according to old-fash- 
 ioned standards, she had been indiscreet, but ap- 
 parently the present day woman had a standard 
 of her own. Alfred found his eye wandering 
 round the table surveying the wives of his 
 friends. Was there one of them, he wondered, 
 who had never fibbed to her husband, or eaten 
 simple luncheon unchaperoned by him? Of one 
 thing he was certain, there was not one of them 
 so attractive as Zoie. Might she not be forgiven, 
 to some extent, if her physical charms had made 
 her a source of dangerous temptation to unprin- 
 cipled scoundrels like the one with whom she had 
 no doubt lunched? Then, too, had she not of- 
 fered at the moment of his departure to tell him 
 the "real truth"? Might this not have been 
 the one occasion upon which she would have done 
 so? "She seemed so sincere," he ruminated, 
 " so truly penitent." Then again, how generous 
 it was of her to persist in writing to him with 
 never an answer from him to encourage her. If 
 she cared for him so little as he had once imag-
 
 Baby Mine 97 
 
 ined, why should she wish to keep up even a 
 pretence of fondness? Her letters indicated an 
 undying devotion. 
 
 These were some of the thoughts that were go- 
 ing through Alfred's mind just three months 
 after his departure from Chicago, and all the 
 while his hostess was mentally duhbing him a 
 " dull person." 
 
 " What an abstracted man he is ! " she said 
 before he was down the front steps. 
 
 "Is he really so clever in business? " a woman 
 friend inquired. 
 
 "It's hard to believe, isn't it?" commented a 
 third, and his host apologised for the absent Al- 
 fred by saying that he was no doubt worried 
 about a particular business decision that had to 
 be made the next morning. 
 
 But it was not the responsibility of this busi- 
 ness decision that was knotting Alfred's brow, 
 as he walked hurriedly toward the hotel, where 
 he had told his office boy to leave the last mail. 
 This had been the longest interval that Zoie had 
 ever let slip without writing. He recalled that 
 her last letters had hinted at a " slight indisposi- 
 tion." In fact, she had even mentioned " seeing 
 the doctor " " Good Heavens ! " he thought, 
 "Suppose she were really ill? Who would look 
 after her? " 
 
 When Alfred reached his rooms, the boy had 
 not yet arrived. He crossed to the library table
 
 98 Baby Mine 
 
 and took from the drawer all the letters thus far 
 received from Zoie. He read them consecutively. 
 " How could he have been so stupid as not to 
 have realised sooner that her illness whatever it 
 was had been gradually creeping upon her from 
 the very first day of his departure? " 
 
 The boy arrived with the mail. It contained 
 no letter from Zoie and Alfred went to bed with 
 an uneasy mind. 
 
 The next morning he was down at his office 
 early, still no letter from Zoie. 
 
 Refusing his partner's invitation to lunch, Al- 
 fred sat alone in his office, glad to be rid of intru- 
 sive eyes. " He would write to Jimmy Jinks," 
 he decided, " and find out whether Zoie were in 
 any immediate danger." 
 
 Not willing to await the return of his stenog- 
 rapher, or to acquaint her with his personal af- 
 fairs, Alfred drew pen and paper toward him and 
 sat helplessly before it. How could he inquire 
 about Zoie without appearing to invite a recon- 
 ciliation with her? While he was trying to an- 
 swer this vexed question, a sharp knock came at 
 the door. He turned to see a uniformed mes- 
 senger holding a telegram toward him. Intui- 
 tively he felt that it contained some word about 
 Zoie. His hand trembled so that he could 
 scarcely sign for the message before open- 
 ing it. 
 
 A moment later the messenger boy was startled
 
 Baby Mine 99 
 
 out of his lethargy by a succession of contradic- 
 tory exclamations. 
 
 " No ! " cried Alfred incredulously as he gazed 
 in ecstasy at the telegram. " Yes ! " he shouted, 
 excitedly, as he rose from his chair. " Where's 
 a time table? " he asked the astonished boy, and 
 he began rummaging rapidly through the draw- 
 ers of his desk. 
 
 "Any answer?" inquired the messenger. 
 
 " Take this," said Alfred. And he thrust a 
 bill into the small boy's hand. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the boy and disappeared 
 quickly, lest this madman might reconsider his 
 generosity. 
 
 Alfred threw down the time table in despair. 
 "No train for Chicago until night," he cried; 
 but his mind was working fast. The next mo- 
 ment he was at the telephone, asking for the 
 Division Superintendent of the railway line. 
 
 When Alfred's partner returned from luncheon 
 he found a curt note informing him that Alfred 
 had left on a special for Chicago and would 
 " write." 
 
 " I'll bet it's his wife ! " said the partner.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DURING the evening of the same day that Al- 
 fred was enjoying such pleasurable emotions, 
 Zoie and Aggie were closeted in the pretty pink 
 and white bedroom that the latter had tried to 
 describe to Jimmy. On a rose-coloured couch in 
 front of the fire sat Aggie threading ribbons 
 through various bits of soft white linen, and in 
 front of her, at the foot of a rose-draped bed, 
 knelt Zoie. She was trying the effect of a large 
 pink bow against the lace flounce of an empty 
 but inviting bassinette. 
 
 "How's that?" she called to Aggie, as she 
 turned her head to one side and surveyed the 
 result of her experiment with a critical eye. 
 
 Aggie shot a grudging glance at the bassinette. 
 " I wish you wouldn't bother me every moment," 
 she said. " I'll never get all these things 
 finished." 
 
 Apparently Zoie decided that the bow was 
 properly placed, for she applied herself to sewing 
 it fast to the lining. In her excitement she gave 
 the thread a vicious pull. " Oh, dear, oh dear, 
 my thread is always breaking ! " she sighed in 
 vexation. 
 
 " You're excited," said Aggie. 
 100
 
 Baby Mine 101 
 
 " Wouldn't you be excited," questioned Zoie, 
 " if you were expecting a baby and a husband in 
 the morning? " 
 
 " I suppose I should," admitted Aggie. 
 
 For a time the two friends sewed in silence; 
 then Zoie looked up with sudden anxiety. 
 "You're sure Jimmy sent the wire?" she asked. 
 
 " I saw him write it," answered Aggie, " while 
 I was in the office to-day." 
 
 "When will Alfred get it?" demanded Zoie 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, he won't get it until to-morrow morning," 
 said Aggie. " I told you that to-day. It's a 
 night message." 
 
 " I wonder what he'll be doing when he gets 
 it?" mused Zoie. There was a suspicion of a 
 smile around her lips. 
 
 " What will he do after he gets it? " questioned 
 Aggie. 
 
 Looking up at her friend in alarm, Zoie sud- 
 denly ceased sewing. " You don't mean he won't 
 come?" she gasped. 
 
 " Of course I don't," answered Aggie. " He's 
 only human if he is a husband." 
 
 There was a sceptical expression around Zoie's 
 mouth, but she did not pursue the subject. 
 " How do you suppose that red baby will ever 
 look in this pink basket?" she asked. And then 
 with a regretful little sigh, she declared that she 
 wished she'd " used blue."
 
 102 Baby Mine 
 
 " I didn't think the baby that we chose was so 
 horribly red," said Aggie. 
 
 "Red!" cried Zoie, "it's magenta." And 
 again her thread broke. " Oh, darn ! " she ex- 
 claimed in annoyance, and once more rethreaded 
 her needle. " I couldn't look at it," she con- 
 tinued with a disgusted little pucker of her face. 
 " I wish they had let us take it this afternoon so 
 I could have got used to it before Alfred gets 
 liere." 
 
 " Now don't be silly," scolded Aggie. " You 
 know very well that the Superintendent can't 
 let it leave the home until its mother signs the 
 papers. It will be here the first thing in the 
 morning. You'll have all day to get used to it 
 before Alfred gets here." 
 
 " All day," echoed Zoie, and the corners of her 
 mouth began to droop. " Won't Alfred be here 
 before to-morrow night? " 
 
 Aggie was becoming exasperated by Zoie's end- 
 less questions. " I told you," she explained 
 wearily, " that the wire won't be delivered until 
 to-morrow morning, it will take Alfred eight hours 
 to get here, and there may not be a train just 
 that minute." 
 
 " Eight long hours," sighed Zoie dismally. 
 And Aggie looked at her reproachfully, forget- 
 ting that it is always the last hour that is hardest 
 to bear. Zoie resumed her sewing resignedly. 
 Aggie was meditating whether she should read
 
 Baby Mine 103 
 
 her young friend a lecture on the value of pa- 
 tience, when the telephone began to ring violently. 
 
 Zoie looked up from her sewing with a frown. 
 " You answer it, will 3 r ou, Aggie? " she said. " I 
 can't let go this thread." 
 
 " Hello," called Aggie sweetly over the 'phone ; 
 then she added in surprise, " Is this you, Jimmy 
 dear? " Apparently it was; and as Zoie watched 
 Aggie's face, with its increasing distress she sur- 
 mised that Jimmy's message was anything but 
 " dear." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried Aggie over the tele- 
 phone, " that's awful ! " 
 
 "Isn't Alfred coming? " was the first question 
 that burst from Zoie's lips. 
 
 Aggie motioned to Zoie to be quiet. " To- 
 night! " she exclaimed. 
 
 "To-night!" echoed Zoie joyfully; and with- 
 out waiting for more details and with no thought 
 beyond the moment, she flew to her dressing table 
 and began arranging her hair, powdering her face, 
 perfuming her lips, and making herself partic- 
 ularly alluring for the prodigal husband's return. 
 
 Now the far-sighted Aggie was experiencing 
 less pleasant sensations at the phone. " A spe- 
 cial ? " she was saying to Jimmy. " When did 
 Alfred get the message?" There was a slight 
 pause. Then she asked irritably, " Well, didn't 
 you mark it 'night message'?" From the ex- 
 pression on Aggie's face it was evident that he
 
 104 Baby Mine 
 
 had not done so. " But, Jimm}'," protested Ag- 
 gie, " this is dreadful ! We haven't any baby ! " 
 Then calling to him to wait a minute, and leav- 
 ing the receiver dangling, she crossed the room to 
 Zoic, who was now thoroughly engrossed in the 
 making of a fresh toilet. " Zoie ! " she exclaimed 
 excitedly, " Jimmy made a mistake." 
 
 " Of course he'd do that" answered Zoie care- 
 lessly. 
 
 *' But you don't understand," persisted Aggie. 
 " They sent the ' night message ' to-day. Al- 
 fred's coming on a special. He'll be here to- 
 night." 
 
 " Thank goodness for that ! " cried Zoie, and 
 the next instant she was waltzing gaily about the 
 room. 
 
 " That's all very well," answered Aggie, as she 
 followed Zoie with anxious eyes, " but where's 
 your baby? " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried Zoie, and for the first 
 time she became conscious of their predicament. 
 She gazed at Aggie in consternation. " I forgot 
 all about it," she said, and then asked with grow- 
 ing anxiety, " What can we do? " 
 
 "Do?" echoed Aggie, scarcely knowing her- 
 self what answer to make, " we've got to get it 
 to-night. That's all!" 
 
 " But," protested Zoie, " how can we get it 
 when the mother hasn't signed the papers yet? " 
 
 " Jimmy will have to arrange that with the
 
 Baby Mine 105 
 
 Superintendent of the Home," answered Aggie 
 with decision, and she turned toward the 'phone 
 to instruct Jimmy accordingly. 
 
 " Yes, that's right," assented Zoie, glad to be 
 rid of all further responsibility, " we'll let Jimmy 
 fix it." 
 
 " Say, Jimmy," called Aggie excitedly, " you'll 
 have to go straight to the Children's 
 Home and get that baby just as quickly as you 
 can. There's some red tape about the mother 
 signing papers, but don't mind about that. 
 Make them give it to you to-night. Hurry, 
 Jimmy. Don't waste a minute." 
 
 There was evidently a protest from the other 
 end of the wire, for Aggie added impatiently, 
 " Go on, Jimmy, do ! You can eat any time." 
 And with that she hung up the receiver. 
 
 "Its clothes," called Zoie frantically. "Tell 
 him about the clothes. I sent them this evening." 
 
 " Never mind about the clothes," answered Ag- 
 gie. " We're lucky if we get the baby." 
 
 " But I have to mind," persisted Zoie. " I 
 gave all its other things to the laundress. I 
 wanted them to be nice and fresh. And now the 
 horrid old creature hasn't brought them back 
 yet." 
 
 " You get into your own things," commanded 
 Aggie. 
 
 " Where's my dressing gown ? " asked Zoie, her 
 elation revived by the thought of her fine raiment,
 
 106 Baby Mine 
 
 and with that she flew to the foot of the bed and 
 snatched up two of the prettiest negligees ever 
 imported from Paris. " Which do you like bet- 
 ter? " she asked, as she held them both aloft, 
 " the pink or the blue? " 
 
 " It doesn't matter," answered Aggie wearily. 
 " Get into something, that's all." 
 
 " Then unhook me," commanded Zoie gaily, as 
 she turned her back to Aggie, and continued to 
 admire the two " creations " on her arm. So 
 pleased was she with the picture of herself in 
 either of the garments that she began humming 
 a gay waltz and swaying to the rhythm. 
 
 " Stand still," commanded Aggie, but her warn- 
 ing was unnecessary, for at that moment Zoie 
 was transfixed by a horrible fear. 
 
 " Suppose," she said in alarm, " that Jimmy 
 can't get the baby? " 
 
 " He's got to get it," answered Aggie emphat- 
 ically, and she undid the last stubborn hook of 
 Zoie's gown and put the girl from her. " There, 
 now, you're all unfastened," she said, " hurry and 
 get dressed." 
 
 " You mean wndressed," laughed Zoie, as she 
 let her pretty evening gown fall lightly from her 
 shoulders and drew on her pink negligee. " Oh, 
 Aggie ! " she exclaimed, as she caught sight of 
 her reflection in the mirror, " isn't it a love? And 
 you know," she added, " Alfred just adores 
 pink."
 
 Baby Mine 107 
 
 " Silly ! " answered Aggie, but in spite of her- 
 self, she was quite thrilled by the picture of the 
 exquisite young creature before her. Zoie had 
 certainly never looked more irresistible. " Can't 
 you get some of that colour out of your cheeks," 
 asked Aggie in despair. " You look like a wash- 
 erwoman." 
 
 " I'll put on some cold cream and powder," 
 answered Zoie. She flew to her dressing table; 
 and in a moment there was a white cloud in her 
 immediate vicinity. She turned to Aggie to in- 
 quire the result. Again the 'phone rang. 
 "Who's that?" she exclaimed in alarm. 
 
 " I'll see," answered Aggie. 
 
 "It couldn't be Alfred, could it?" asked Zoie 
 with mingled hope and dread. 
 
 " Of course not," answered Aggie, as she re- 
 moved the receiver from the hook. " Alfred 
 wouldn't 'phone; he would come right up."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 DISCOVERING that it was merely Jimmy " on 
 the wire," Zoie's uneasiness abated, but Aggie's 
 anxiety was visibly increasing. 
 
 " Where are you?" she asked of her spouse. 
 " The Children's Home ! " she repeated, then 
 followed further explanations from Jimmy 
 which were apparently not satisfactory. " Oh, 
 Jimmy ! " cried his disturbed wife, " it can't be ! 
 That's horrible!" 
 
 " What is it? " shrieked Zoie, trying to get 
 her small ear close enough to the receiver to catch 
 a bit of the obviously terrifying message. 
 
 " Wait a minute," called Aggie into the 'phone. 
 Then she turned to Zoie with a look of despair. 
 " The mother's changed her mind," she explained ; 
 " she won't give up the baby." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " cried Zoie, and she sank into the 
 nearest chair. For an instant the two women 
 looked at each other with blank faces. " What 
 can we do? " asked Zoie. 
 
 Aggie did not answer immediately. This was 
 indeed a serious predicament; but presently Zoie 
 saw her friend's mouth becoming very resolute, 
 and she surmised that Aggie had solved the prob- 
 lem. " We'll have to get another baby, that's 
 
 108
 
 Baby Mine 109 
 
 all," decided Aggie. " There must be other 
 babies." 
 
 "Where?" asked Zoie. 
 
 " There, in the Children's Home," answered Ag- 
 gie with great confidence, and she returned to the 
 'phone. 
 
 Zoie crossed to the bed and knelt at its foot 
 in search of her little pink slippers. 
 
 " Oh, Aggie," she sighed, " the others were all 
 so red!" 
 
 But Aggie did not heed her protest. " Listen, 
 Jimmy," she called in the 'phone, " can't you get 
 another baby? " There was a pause, then Aggie 
 commanded hotly, " Well, get in the business ! " 
 Another pause and then Aggie continued very 
 firmly, " Tell the Superintendent that we just 
 must have one." 
 
 Zoie stopped in the act of putting on her sec- 
 ond slipper and called a reminder to Aggie. 
 " Tell him to get a Tie one," she said, " Alfred 
 wants a boy." 
 
 " Take what you can get ! " answered Aggie 
 impatiently, and again she gave her attention to 
 the 'phone. " What ! " she cried, with growing 
 despair, and Zoie waited to hear what had gone 
 wrong now. " Nothing under three months," 
 explained Aggie. 
 
 "Won't that do?" asked Zoie innocently. 
 
 " Do ! " echoed Aggie in disgust. " A three- 
 months' old baby is as big as a whale."
 
 110 Baby Mine 
 
 " Well, can't we say it grew up? " asked Zoie, 
 priding herself on her power of ready resource. 
 
 " Overnight, like a mushroom? " sneered Aggie. 
 
 Almost vanquished by her friend's new air of 
 cold superiority, Zoie was now on the verge of 
 tears. " Somebody must have a new baby," she 
 faltered. " Somebody always has a new baby." 
 
 " For their own personal use, yes," admitted 
 Aggie, " but who has a new baby for us? " 
 
 " How do I know? " asked Zoie helplessly. 
 " You're the one who ought to know. You got 
 me into this, and you've got to get me out of it. 
 Can you imagine," she asked, growing more and 
 more unhappy, " what would happen to me if 
 Alfred were to come home now and not find a 
 baby? He wouldn't forgive a little lie, what would 
 he do with a whopper like this ? " Then with 
 sudden decision, she rushed toward the 'phone. 
 " Let me talk to Jimmy," she said, and the next 
 moment she was chattering so rapidly and inco- 
 herently over the 'phone that Aggie despaired of 
 hearing one word that she said, and retired to 
 the next room to think out a new plan of action. 
 
 " Say, Jimmy," stammered Zoie into the 'phone, 
 " you've got to get me a baby. If you don't, I'll 
 kill myself! I will, Jimmy, I will. You got me 
 into this, Jimmy," she reminded him. " You've 
 got to get me out of it." And then followed 
 pleadings and coaxings and cajolings, and at 
 length, a pause, during which Jimmy was appar-
 
 Baby Mine 111 
 
 ently able to get in a word or so. His answer 
 was not satisfactory to Zoie. " What ! " she 
 shrieked, tiptoeing to get her lips closer to 
 the receiver; then she added with conviction, 
 " the mother has no business to change her 
 mind/' 
 
 Apparently Jimmy maintained that the mother 
 had changed it none the less. 
 
 " Well, take it away from her," commanded 
 Zoie. " Get it quick, while she isn't looking." 
 Then casting a furtive glance over her shoulder 
 to make sure that Aggie was still out of the room, 
 she indulged in a few dark threats to Jimmy, also 
 some vehement reminders of how he had dragged 
 her into that horrid old restaurant and been the 
 immediate cause of all the misfortunes that had 
 ever befallen her. 
 
 Could Jimmy have been sure that Aggie was 
 out of ear-shot of Zoie's conversation, the argu- 
 ment would doubtless have kept up indefinitely 
 as it was the result was a quick acquiescence on 
 his part and by the time that Aggie returned to 
 the room, Zoie was wreathed in smiles. 
 
 " It's all right," she said sweetly. " Jimmy's 
 going to get it." 
 
 Aggie looked at her sceptically. " Goodness 
 knows I hope so," she said, then added in despair, 
 " Look at your cheeks. They're flaming." 
 
 Once more the powder puff was called into 
 requisition!, and Zoie turned a temporarily
 
 112 Baby Mine 
 
 blanched face to Aggie. " Is that better? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Very much," answered Aggie, " but how 
 about your hair?" 
 
 "What's the matter with it?" asked Zoie. 
 Her reflection betrayed a coiffure that might 
 have turned Marie Antoinette green with envy. 
 
 " Would anybody think you'd been in bed for 
 days?" asked Aggie. 
 
 " Alfred likes it that way," was Zoie's defence. 
 
 " Turn around," said Aggie, without deigning 
 to argue the matter further. And she began to 
 remove handfuls of hairpins from the yellow 
 knotted curls. 
 
 "What are you doing?" exclaimed Zoie, as 
 she sprayed her white neck and arms with her 
 favourite perfume. 
 
 Aggie did not answer. 
 
 Zoie leaned forward toward the mirror to 
 smooth out her eyebrows with the tips of her per- 
 fumed fingers. " Good gracious," she cried in 
 horror as she caught sight of her reflection. 
 " You're not going to put my hair in a pigtail ! " 
 
 " That's the way invalids always have their 
 hair," was Aggie's laconic reply, and she contin- 
 ued to plait the obstinate curls. 
 
 " I won't have it like that ! " declared Zoie, 
 and she shook herself free from Aggie's unwel- 
 come attentions and proceeded to unplait the 
 hateful pigtail. " Alfred would leave me."
 
 Baby Mine 113 
 
 Aggie shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " If you're going to make a perfect fright of 
 me," pouted Zoie, "I just won't see him." 
 
 " He isn't coming to see you" reminded Aggie. 
 " He's coming to see the baby." 
 
 " If Jimmy doesn't come soon, I'll not have 
 any baby," answered Zoie. 
 
 " Get into bed," said Aggie, and she proceeded 
 to turn down the soft lace coverlets. 
 
 " Where did I put my cap? " asked Zoie. Her 
 eyes caught the small knot of lace and ribbons for 
 which she was looking, and she pinned it on top 
 of her saucy little curls. 
 
 " In you go," said Aggie, motioning to the 
 bed. 
 
 " Wait," said Zoie impressively, " wait till I 
 get my rose lights on the pillow." She pulled 
 the slender gold chain of her night lamp; in- 
 stantly the large white pillows were bathed in a 
 warm pink glow she studied the effect very care- 
 fully, then added a lingerie pillow to the two 
 more formal ones, kicked off her slippers and 
 hopped into bed. One more glance at the pil- 
 lows, then she arranged the ribbons of her negligee 
 to fall " carelessly " outside the coverlet, threw 
 one arm gracefully above her head, half-closed her 
 eyes, and sank languidly back against her pillows. 
 
 "How's that?" she breathed faintly. 
 
 Controlling her impulse to smile, Aggie crossed 
 to the dressing-table with a business-like air and
 
 114 Baby Mine 
 
 applied to Zoie's pink cheeks a third coating of 
 powder. 
 
 Zoie sat bolt upright and began to sneeze. 
 "Aggie," she said, "I just hate you when you 
 act like that." But suddenly she was seized with 
 a new idea. 
 
 " I wonder," she mused as she looked across 
 the room at the soft, pink sofa bathed in firelight, 
 " I wonder if I shouldn't look better on that 
 couch under those roses." 
 
 Aggie was very emphatic in her opinion to the 
 contrary. " Certainly not ! " she said. 
 
 " Then," decided Zoie with a mischievous smile, 
 " I'll get Alfred to carry me to the couch. That 
 way I can get my arms around his neck. And 
 once you get your arms around a man's neck, 
 3 7 ou can manage him." 
 
 Aggie looked down at the small person with 
 distinct disapproval. " Now, don't you make too 
 much fuss over Alfred," she continued. " You're 
 the one who's to do the forgiving. Don't forget 
 that ! What's more," she reminded Zoie, " you're 
 very, very weak." But before she had time to 
 instruct Zoie further there was a sharp, quick 
 ring at the outer door. 
 
 The two women glanced at each other inquir- 
 ingly. The next instant a man's step was heard 
 in the hallway. 
 
 " How is she, Mary ? " demanded someone in 
 a voice tense with anxiety.
 
 Baby Mine 115 
 
 " It's Alfred ! " exclaimed Zoie. 
 
 " And we haven't any baby ! " gasped Aggie. 
 
 " What shall I do? " cried Zoie. 
 
 " Lie down," commanded Aggie, and Zoie had 
 barely time to fall back limply on the pillows when 
 the excited young husband burst into the room.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN Alfred entered Zoie's bedroom he glanced 
 about him in bewilderment. It appeared that 
 he was in an enchanted chamber. Through 
 the dim rose light he could barely perceive his 
 young wife. She was lying white and apparently 
 lifeless on her pillows. He moved cautiously to- 
 ward the bed, but Aggie raised a warning finger. 
 Afraid to speak, he grasped Aggie's hand and 
 searched her face for reassurance; she nodded 
 toward Zoie, whose eyes were closed. He tip- 
 toed to the bedside, sank on his knees and rever- 
 ently kissed the small hand that hung limply 
 across the side of the bed. 
 
 To Alfred's intense surprise, his lips had barely 
 touched Zoie's fingertips when he felt his head 
 seized in a frantic embrace. " Alfred, Alfred ! " 
 cried Zoie in delight; then she smothered his face 
 with kisses. As she lifted her head to survey her 
 astonished husband, she caught the reproving eye 
 of Aggie. With a weak little sigh, she relaxed her 
 tenacious hold of Alfred, breathed his name very 
 faintly, and sank back, apparently exhausted, 
 upon her pillows. 
 
 " It's been too much for her," said the terrified 
 young husband, and he glanced toward Aggie in 
 anxiety. 
 
 116
 
 Baby Mine 117 
 
 Aggie nodded assent. 
 
 " How pale she looks," added Alfred, as he 
 surveyed the white face on the pillows. 
 
 " She's so weak, poor dear," sympathised Ag- 
 gie, almost in a whisper. 
 
 Alfred nodded his understanding to Aggie. It 
 was then that his attention was for the first time 
 attracted toward the crib. 
 
 " M y boy ! " he exclaimed. And again Zoie 
 forgot Aggie's warning and sat straight up in 
 bed. But Alfred did not see her. He was mak- 
 ing determindly for the crib, his heart beating 
 high with the pride of possession. 
 
 Throwing back the coverlets of the bassinette, 
 Alfred stared at the empty bed in silence, then 
 he quickly turned to, the two anxious women. 
 "Where Js he?" he asked, his eyes wide with 
 terror. 
 
 Zoie's lips opened to answer, but no words 
 came. 
 
 Alfred's eyes turned to Aggie. The look on 
 her face increased his worst fears. " Don't tell 
 
 me he's " he could not bring himself to utter 
 
 the word. He continued to look helplessly from 
 one woman to the other. 
 
 In vain Zoie again tried to answer. Aggie 
 also made an unsuccessful attempt to speak. 
 Then, driven to desperation by the strain of the 
 situation, Zoie declared boldly: "He's out." 
 
 "Out?" echoed Alfred in consternation.
 
 118 Baby Mine 
 
 " With Jimmy," explained Aggie, coming to 
 Zoie's rescue as well as she knew how. 
 
 "Jimmy!" repeated Alfred in great astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Just for a breath of air," explained Zoie 
 sweetly. She had now entirely regained her self- 
 possession. 
 
 " Isn't he very young to be out at night? " 
 asked Alfred with a puzzled frown. 
 
 " We told Jimmy that," answered Aggie, 
 amazed at the promptness with which each suc- 
 ceeding lie presented itself. " But you see," she 
 continued, " Jimmy is so crazy about the child 
 that we can't do anything with him." 
 
 "Jimmy crazy about my baby?" exclaimed 
 Alfred incredulously. " He always said babies 
 were * little red worms.' ' 
 
 " Not this one," answered Zoie sweetly. 
 
 " No, indeed," chimed in Aggie. " He acts as 
 though he owned it." 
 
 " Oh, does he? " exclaimed Alfred hotly. " I'll 
 soon put a stop to that," he declared. " Where 
 did he take him ? " 
 
 Again the two women looked at each other in- 
 quiringly, then Aggie stammered evasively. 
 " Oh, j-just downstairs somewhere." 
 
 " I'll look j-just downstairs somewhere," de- 
 cided Alfred, and he snatched up his hat and 
 started toward the door. 
 
 " Alfred ! " cried Zoie in alarm.
 
 Baby Mine 119 
 
 Coming back to her bedside to reassure her, 
 Alfred was caught in a frantic embrace. " I'll 
 be back in a minute, dear," he said, but Zoie clung 
 to him and pleaded desperately. 
 
 " You aren't going to leave me the very first 
 thing?" 
 
 Alfred hesitated. He had no wish to be cruel 
 to Zoie, but the thought of Jimmy out in the 
 street with his baby at this hour of the night was 
 not to be borne. 
 
 Zoie renewed her efforts at persuasion. 
 " Now, dearie," she said, " I wish you'd go get 
 shaved and wash up a bit. I don't wish baby to 
 see you looking so horrid." 
 
 " Yes, do, Alfred," insisted Aggie. " He's sure 
 to be here in a minute." 
 
 " My boy won't care how his father looks," 
 declared Alfred proudly, and Zoie told Aggie 
 afterward that his chest had momentarily ex- 
 panded three inches. 
 
 " But / care," persisted Zoie. " First impres- 
 sions are so important." 
 
 " Now, Zoie," cautioned Aggie, as she crossed 
 toward the bed with affected solicitude. " You 
 mustn't excite yourself." 
 
 Zoie was quick to understand the suggested 
 change in her tactics, and again she sank back 
 on her pillows apparently ill and faint. 
 
 Utterly vanquished by the dire result of his 
 apparently inhuman thoughtlessness, Alfred
 
 120 Baby Mine 
 
 glanced at Aggie, uncertain as to how to repair 
 the injury. 
 
 Aggie beckoned to him to come away from 
 the bed. 
 
 " Let her have her own way," she whispered 
 with a significant glance toward Zoie. 
 
 Alfred nodded understandingly and put a fin- 
 ger to his lips to signify that he would henceforth 
 speak in hushed tones, then he tiptoed back to the 
 bed and gently stroked the curls from Zoie's 
 troubled forehead. 
 
 " There now, dear," he whispered, " lie still and 
 rest and I'll go shave and wash up a bit." 
 
 Zoie sighed her acquiescence. 
 
 " Mind," he whispered to Aggie, " you are to 
 call me the moment my boy comes," and then he 
 slipped quietly into the bedroom. 
 
 No sooner had Alfred crossed the threshold, 
 than Zoie sat up in bed and called in a sharp 
 whisper to Aggie, "What's keeping them?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I can't imagine," answered Aggie, also in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " If I had Jimmy here," declared Zoie vindic- 
 tively, " I'd wring his little fat neck," and slip- 
 ping her little pink toes from beneath the covers, 
 she was about to get out of bed, when Aggie, 
 who was facing Alfred's bedroom door, gave her 
 a warning signal. 
 
 Zoie had barely time to get back beneath the
 
 Baby Mine 121 
 
 covers, when Alfred re-entered the room in search 
 of his satchel. Aggie found it for him quickly. 
 
 Alfred glanced solicitously at Zoie's closed 
 eyes. " I'm so sorry," he apologised to Aggie, 
 and again he slipped softly out of the room. 
 
 Aggie and Zoie drew together for consulta- 
 tion. 
 
 " Suppose Jimmy can't get the baby," whis- 
 pered Zoie. 
 
 " In that case, he'd have 'phoned," argued 
 Aggie. 
 
 " Let's 'phone to the Home," suggested Zoie, 
 " and find " She was interrupted by Al- 
 fred's voice. 
 
 " Say, Aggie," called Alfred from the next 
 room. 
 
 " Yes ? " answered Aggie sweetly, and she 
 crossed to the door and waited. 
 
 "Hasn't he come yet?" called Alfred impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Not yet, Alfred," said Aggie, and she closed 
 the door very softly, lest Alfred should hear her. 
 
 " I never knew Alfred could be so silly ! " 
 snapped Zoie. 
 
 " Sh ! sh ! " warned Aggie, and she glanced anx- 
 iously toward Alfred's door. 
 
 " He doesn't care a bit about me ! " complained 
 Zoie. "It's all that horrid old baby that he's 
 never seen." 
 
 " If Jimmy doesn't come soon, he never icill
 
 122 Baby Mine 
 
 see it," declared Aggie, and she started toward 
 the window to look out. 
 
 Just then there was a short quick ring of the 
 bell. The two women glanced at each other with 
 mingled hope and fear. Then their eyes sought 
 the door expectantly.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WITH the collar of his long ulster pushed high 
 and the brim of his derby hat pulled low, Jimmy 
 Jinks crept cautiously into the room. When he 
 at length ceased to glance over his shoulder and 
 came to a full stop, Aggie perceived a bit of white 
 flannel hanging beneath the hem of his tightly but- 
 toned coat. 
 
 " You've got it ! " she cried. 
 
 "Where is it?" asked Zoie. 
 
 " Give it to me," demanded Aggie. 
 
 Jimmie stared at them as though stupefied, then 
 glanced uneasily over his shoulder, to make sure 
 that no one was pursuing him. Aggie unbut- 
 toned his ulster, seized a wee mite wrapped in a 
 large shawl, and clasped it to her bosom with a 
 sigh of relief. " Thank heaven ! " she exclaimed, 
 then crossed quickly to the bassinette and depos- 
 ited her charge. 
 
 In the meantime, having thrown discretion to 
 the wind, Zoie had hopped out of bed. As usual, 
 her greeting to Jimmy was in the nature of a 
 reproach. "What kept you?" she demanded 
 crossly. 
 
 " Yes," chimed in Aggie, who was now bend- 
 ing over the crib. "What made you so long? " 
 
 123
 
 124 Baby Mine 
 
 " See here ! " answered Jimmy hotly, " if you 
 two think you can do any better, you're welcome 
 to the job," and with that he threw off his over- 
 coat and sank sullenly on the couch. 
 
 " Sh ! sh ! " exclaimed Zoie and Aggie, simul- 
 taneously, and they glanced nervously tow.vrd 
 Alfred's bedroom door. 
 
 Jimmy looked at them without comprehend- 
 ing why he should " sh." They did not bother to 
 explain. Instead, Zoie turned her back upon 
 him. 
 
 " Let's see it," she said, peeping into the bas- 
 sinette. And then with a little cry of disgust 
 she again looked at Jimmy reproachfully. 
 " Isn't it ugly? " she said. Jimmy's contempt 
 for woman's ingratitude was too deep for words, 
 and he only stared at her in injured silence. But 
 his reflections were quickly upset when Alfred 
 called from the next room, to inquire again about 
 Baby. 
 
 " Alfred's here ! " whispered Jimmy, beginning 
 to realise the meaning of the women's mysterious 
 behaviour. 
 
 " Sh ! sh ! " said Aggie again to Jimmy, and 
 Zoie flew toward the bed, almost vaulting over 
 the footboard in her hurry to get beneath the 
 covers. 
 
 For the present Alfred did not, disturb 
 them further. Apparently he was still occupied 
 with his shaving, but just as Jimmy was about
 
 Baby Mine 125 
 
 to ask for particulars, the 'phone rang. The 
 three culprits glanced guiltily at each other. 
 
 " Who's that ? " whispered Zoie in a frightened 
 voice. 
 
 Aggie crossed to the 'phone. " Hello," she 
 called softly. "The Children's Home?" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Jimmy paused in the act of sitting and turned 
 his round eyes toward the 'phone. 
 
 Aggie's facial expression was not reassuring. 
 " But we can't," she was saying ; " that's im- 
 possible." 
 
 "What is it?" called Zoie across the foot of 
 the bed, unable longer to endure the suspense. 
 
 Aggie did not answer. She was growing more 
 and more excited. " A thief ! " she cried wildly, 
 over the 'phone. " How dare you call my hus- 
 band a thief ! " 
 
 Jimmy was following the conversation with 
 growing interest. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Aggie, then she left 
 the receiver hanging by the cord and turned to 
 the expectant pair behind her. " It's the Chil- 
 dren's Home," she explained. " That awful 
 woman says Jimmy stole her baby ! " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Zoie as though such de- 
 pravity on Jimmy's part were unthinkable. Then 
 she looked at him accusingly, and asked in low, 
 measured tones, " Did you steal her baby, 
 Jimmy? "
 
 126 Baby Mine 
 
 " Didn't you tell me to? " asked Jimmy hotly. 
 
 " Not literally," corrected Aggie. 
 
 "How else could I steal a baby: " demanded 
 Jimmy. 
 
 Zoie looked at the unfortunate creature as if 
 she could strangle him, and Aggie addressed him 
 with a threat in her voice. 
 
 " Well, the Superintendent says you've got to 
 bring it straight back." 
 
 " I'd like to see myself ! " said Jimmy. 
 
 " He sha'n't bring it back," declared Zoie. 
 "I'll not let him!" 
 
 " What shall I tell the Superintendent? " asked 
 Aggie, " he's holding the wire." 
 
 " Tell him he can't have it," answered Zoie, 
 as though that were the end of the whole matter. 
 
 " Well," concluded Aggie, " he says if Jimmy 
 doesn't bring it back the mother's coming 
 after it." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed Zoie. 
 
 As for Jimmy, he bolted for the door. Aggie 
 caught him by the sleeve as he passed. " Wait, 
 Jimmy," she said peremptorily. There was a 
 moment of awful indecision, then something ap- 
 proaching an idea came to Zoie. 
 
 "Tell the Superintendent that it isn't here," 
 she whispered to Aggie across the footboard. 
 " Tell him that Jimmy hasn't got here yet." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Jimmy, " tell him I haven't got 
 here yet."
 
 Baby Mine 127 
 
 Aggie nodded wisely and returned to the 
 'phone. " Hello," she called pleasantly ; then 
 proceeded to explain. " Mr. Jinks hasn't got 
 here yet." There was a pause, then she added in 
 her most conciliatory tone, " I'll tell him what you 
 say when he comes in." Another pause, and she 
 hung up the receiver with a most gracious good- 
 bye and turned to the others with increasing mis- 
 givings. " He says he won't be responsible for 
 that mother much longer she's half-crazy." 
 
 "What right has she to be crazy? " demanded 
 Zoie in an abused voice. " She's a widow. She 
 doesn't need a baby." 
 
 " We!!." decided Aggie after careful delibera- 
 tion, " you'd better take it back, Jimmy, before 
 Alfred sees it." 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Zoie in protest. And 
 again Jimmy bolted, but again he failed to reach 
 the door.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 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 to- 
 ward the crib. " He's here ! " 
 
 " Yes yes," agreed Aggie uneasily, as she 
 tried to place herself between Alfred and the bas- 
 sinette. " 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,, 
 
 128
 
 Baby Mine 129 
 
 "Was he away from home when his f adder came? 
 Oh, me, oh, my ! Coochy ! Coochy ! Cooc/iy ! " 
 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 ex- 
 claimed, and he covered her cheek with kisses. 
 
 " Go away ! " cried Zoie in disgust and she 
 pushed Alfred from her and brushed the hateful 
 lather from her little pink cheek. 
 
 But Alfred was not to be robbed of his exalta- 
 tion, and again he circled the room, making 
 strange gurgling sounds to Baby. 
 
 " Did a horrid old Jimmy take him away from 
 f adder? " he said sympathetically, in the small 
 person's ear; and he glanced at Jimmy with 
 frowning disapproval. "I'd just like to see him 
 get you away from me again ! " he added to Baby, 
 as he tickled the mite's ear with the end of his 
 shaving brush. " Oh, me ! oh, my ! " he ex- 
 claimed in trepidation, as he perceived a bit of 
 lather on the infant's cheek. Then lifting the 
 boy high in his arms and throwing out his chest 
 with great pride, he looked at Jimmy with an air 
 of superiority. " I guess I'm bad, aye? " he said. 
 
 Jimmy positively blushed. As for Zoic, she 
 was growing more and more impatient for a little 
 attention to herself. 
 
 " Rock-a-bye, Baby," sang Alfred in strident 
 tones and he swung the child high in his arms.
 
 130 Baby Mine 
 
 Jimmy and Aggie gazed at Alfred as though 
 hypnotised. They kept time to his lullaby out 
 of sheer nervousness. Suddenly Alfred stopped, 
 held the child from him and gazed at it in horror. 
 " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed. The others 
 waited breathlessly. " Look at that baby's face," 
 commanded Alfred. 
 
 Zoie and Aggie exchanged alarmed glances, 
 then Zoie asked in trepidation, " What's the mat- 
 ter with his face? " 
 
 " He's got a fever," declared Alfred. And he 
 started toward the bed to show the child to its 
 mother. 
 
 " Go away ! " shrieked Zoie, wr.ving Alfred off 
 in wild alarm. 
 
 " What? " asked Alfred, backing from her in 
 surprise. 
 
 Aggie crossed quickly to Alfred's side and 
 looked over his shoulder at the boy. " I don't 
 see anything wrong with its face," she said. 
 
 "It's scarlet!" persisted Alfred. 
 
 " Oh," said Jimmy \vith a superior air, " they're 
 always like that." 
 
 " Nothing of the sort," snorted Alfred, and he 
 glared at Jimmy threateningly. " You've frozen 
 the child parading him around the streets." 
 
 " Let me have him, Alfred," begged Aggie 
 sweetly ; " I'll put him in his crib and keep him 
 warm." 
 
 Reluctantly Alfred released the boy. His eyes
 
 Baby Mine 131 
 
 followed him to the crib with anxiety. " Where's 
 his nurse? " he asked, as he glanced first from one 
 to the other. 
 
 Zoie and Jimmy stared about the room as 
 though expecting the desired person to drop from 
 the ceiling. Then Zoie turned upon her unwary 
 accomplice. 
 
 " Jimmy," she called in a threatening tone, 
 "where is his nurse?" 
 
 "Does Jimmy take the nurse out, too?" de- 
 manded Alfred, more and more annoyed by the 
 privileges Jimmy had apparently been usurping 
 in his absence. 
 
 " Never mind about the nurse," interposed 
 Aggie. " Baby likes me better anyway. I'll 
 tuck him in," and she bent fondly over the crib, 
 but Alfred was not to be so easily pacified. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me," he exclaimed ex- 
 citedly, " that my boy hasn't any nurse? " 
 
 " We had a nurse," corrected Zoie, " but but 
 I had to discharge her." 
 
 Alfred glanced from one to the other for an 
 explanation. 
 
 "Discharge her?" he repeated, "for what?" 
 
 " She was crazy," stammered Zoie. 
 
 Alfred's eyes sought Aggie's for confirmation. 
 She nodded. He directed his steady gaze toward 
 Jimmy. The latter jerked his head up and down 
 in nervous assent. 
 
 " Well," said Alfred, amazed at their apparent
 
 132 Baby Mine 
 
 lack of resource, " why didn't you get another 
 nurse? " 
 
 " -^gg 1 * 6 i s going * s t a y an d take care of baby 
 to-night," declared Zoie, and then she beamed 
 upon Aggie as only she knew how. " Aren't you, 
 dear? " she asked sweetly. 
 
 ' Yes, indeed," answered Aggie, studiously 
 avoiding Jimmy's eye. 
 
 " Baby is going to sleep in the spare room with 
 Aggie and Jimmy," said Zoie. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Jimmy, too desperate to 
 care what Alfred might infer. 
 
 Ignoring Jimmy's implied protest, Zoie con- 
 tinued sweetly to Alfred: 
 
 " Now, don't worry, dear ; go back to your 
 room and finish your shaving." 
 
 " Finish shaving? " repeated Alfred in a puz- 
 zled way. Then his hand went mechanically to 
 his cheek and he stared at Zoie in astonishment. 
 " By Jove ! " he exclaimed, " I had forgotten all 
 about it. That shows you how excited I am." 
 And with a reluctant glance toward the cradle, he 
 went quickly from the room, singing a high- 
 pitched lullaby. 
 
 Just as the three conspirators were drawing 
 together for consultation, Alfred returned to the 
 room. It was apparent that there was some- 
 thing important on his mind. 
 
 " By the way," he said, glancing from one to 
 another, "I forgot to ask what's his name?"
 
 Baby Mine 133 
 
 The conspirators looked at each other without 
 answering. To Alfred their delay was annoying. 
 Of course his son had been given his father's name, 
 but he wished to hear someone say so. 
 
 " Baby's, I mean," he explained impatiently. 
 
 Jimmy felt instinctively that Zoie's eyes were 
 upon him. He avoided her gaze. 
 
 " Jimmy ! " called Zoic, meaning only to appeal 
 to him for a name. 
 
 " Jimmy ! " thundered the infuriated Alfred. 
 " You've called my boy * Jimmy ' ? Why 
 4 Jimmy'?" 
 
 For once Zoie was without an answer. 
 
 After waiting in vain for any response, Alfred 
 advanced upon the uncomfortable Jimmy. 
 
 " You seem to be very popular around here," 
 he sneered. 
 
 Jimmy shifted uneasily from one foot to the 
 other and studied the pattern of the rug upon 
 which he was standing. 
 
 After what seemed an age to Jimmy, Alfred 
 turned his back upon his old friend and started 
 toward his bedroom. Jimmy peeped out uneasily 
 from his long eyelashes. When Alfred reached 
 the threshold, he faced about quickly and stared 
 again at Jimmy for an explanation. It seemed 
 to Jimmy that Alfred's nostrils were dilating. He 
 would not have been surprised to see Alfred snort 
 fire. He let his eyes fall before the awful 
 spectacle of his friend's wrath. Alfred's upper
 
 134 Baby Mine 
 
 lip began to curl. He cast a last withering look 
 in Jimmy's direction, retired quickly from the 
 scene and banged the door. 
 
 When Jimmy again had the courage to lift his 
 eyes he was confronted by the contemptuous gaze 
 of Zoie, who was sitting up in bed and regarding 
 him with undisguised disapproval. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell him what the baby's name 
 is? " she demanded. 
 
 " How do / know what the baby's name is ? " 
 retorted Jimmy savagely. 
 
 " Sh ! sh ! " cautioned Aggie as she glanced 
 nervously toward the door through which Alfred 
 had just passed. 
 
 " What does it matter what the baby's name is 
 so long as we have to send it back? " 
 
 " I'll not send it back," declared Zoie emphatic- 
 ally, " at least not until morning. That will give 
 Jimmy a whole night to get another one." 
 
 " Another ! " shrieked Jimmy. " See here, you 
 two can't be changing babies every five minutes 
 without Alfred knowing it. Even lie has some 
 sense." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " answered Aggie shortly. " You 
 know perfectly well that all young babies look 
 just alike. Their own mothers couldn't tell them 
 apart, if it weren't for their clothes." 
 
 " But where can we get another? " asked Zoie. 
 
 Before Aggie could answer, Alfred was again 
 heard calling from the next room. Apparently
 
 Baby Mine 135 
 
 all his anger had subsided, for he inquired in the 
 most amiable tone as to what baby might be doing 
 and how he might be feeling. Aggie crossed 
 quickly to the door, and sweetly reassured the 
 anxious father, then she closed the door softly 
 and turned to Zoie and Jimmy with a new inspira- 
 tion lighting her face. " I have it," she exclaimed 
 ecstatically. 
 
 Jimmy regarded his spouse with grave suspi- 
 cion. 
 
 " Now see here," he objected, " every time 
 you f have it,' I do it. The next time you ' have 
 it ' you do it! " 
 
 The emphasis with which Jimmy made his dec- 
 laration deserved consideration, but to his amaze- 
 ment it was entirely ignored by both women. 
 Hopping quickly out of bed, without even glanc- 
 ing in his direction, Zoie gave her entire attention 
 to Aggie. "What is it?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 " There must be other babies' Homes," said 
 Aggie, and she glanced at Jimmy from her supe- 
 rior height. 
 
 " They aren't open all night like corner drug 
 stores," growled Jimmy. 
 
 " Well, they ought to be," decided Zoie. 
 
 " And surely," argued Aggie, " in an extraor- 
 dinary case like " 
 
 " This was an ' extraordinary case,' " declared 
 Jimmy, " and you saw what happened this time, 
 and the Superintendent is a friend of mine at
 
 136 Baby Mine 
 
 least he was a friend of mine." And with that 
 Jimmy sat himself down on the far corner of the 
 couch and proceeded to ruminate on the havoc 
 that these two women had wrought in his once 
 tranquil life. 
 
 Zoie gazed at Jimmy in deep disgust ; her friend 
 Aggie had made an excellent suggestion, and in- 
 stead of acting upon it with alacrity, here sat 
 Jimmy sulking like a stubborn child. 
 
 " I suppose," said Zoie, as her eyebrows as- 
 sumed a bored angle, " there are some babies in 
 the world outside of Children's Homes." 
 
 " Of course," was Aggie's enthusiastic re- 
 joinder; "there's one born every minute." 
 
 " But I was born between minutes," protested 
 Jimmy. 
 
 "Who's talking about you?" snapped Zoie. 
 
 Again Aggie exclaimed that she " had it." 
 
 " She's got it twice as bad," groaned Jimmy, 
 and he wondered what new form her persecution 
 of him was about to take. 
 
 " Where is the morning paper ? " asked Aggie, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " We can't advertise now" protested Zoie. 
 " It's too late for that." 
 
 " Sh ! Sh ! " answered Aggie, as she snatched 
 the paper quickly from the table and began run- 
 ning her eyes up and down its third page. " Mar- 
 ried married," she murmured, and then with de- 
 light she found the half column for which she was
 
 Baby Mine 137 
 
 searching. " Born," she exclaimed triumphantly. 
 " Here we are ! Get a pencil, Zoie, and we'll take 
 down all the new ones." 
 
 " Of course," agreed Zoie, clapping her hands 
 in glee, " and Jimmy can get a taxi and look 
 them right up." 
 
 " Oh, can he? " shouted Jimmy as he rose with 
 clenched fists. " Now you two, see here " 
 
 Before Jimmy could complete his threat, there 
 was a sharp ring of the door bell. He looked 
 at the two women inquiringly. 
 
 " It's the mother," cried Zoie in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " The mother ! " repeated Jimmy in terror and 
 he glanced uncertainly from one door to the other. 
 
 " Cover up the baby ! " called Zoie, and drawing 
 Jimmy's overcoat quickly from his arm, Aggie 
 threw it hurriedly over the cradle. 
 
 For an instant Jimmy remained motionless in 
 the centre of the room, hatless, coatless, and shorn 
 of ideas. A loud knock on the door decided him 
 and he sank with trembling knees behind the near- 
 est armchair, just as Zoie made a flying leap into 
 the bed and prepared to draw the cover over her 
 head. 
 
 The knock was repeated and Aggie signalled to 
 Zoie to answer it. 
 
 " Come in ! " called Zoie very faintly.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FROM his hiding-place Jimmy peeped around 
 the edge of the armchair and saw what seemed to 
 be a large clothes basket entering the room. 
 Closer inspection revealed the small figure of 
 Maggie, the washerwoman's daughter, propelling 
 the basket, which was piled high with freshly 
 laundered clothing. Jimmy drew a long sigh of 
 relief, and unknotted his cramped limbs. 
 
 "Shall I lay the things on the sofa, mum? " 
 asked Maggie as she placed her basket on the 
 floor and waited for Zoie's instructions. 
 
 " Yes, please," answered Zoie, too exhausted 
 for further comment. 
 
 Taking the laundry piece by piece from the 
 basket, Maggie made excuses for its delay, while 
 she placed it on the couch. Deaf to Maggie's 
 chatter, Zoie lay back languidly on her pillows ; 
 but she soon heard something that lifted her 
 straight up in bed. 
 
 " Me mother is sorry she had to kape you 
 waitin' this week," said Maggie over her shoul- 
 der ; " but we've got twins at our house." 
 
 " Twins ! " echoed Zoie and Af,gie simultane- 
 ously. Then together they stared at Maggie as 
 though she had been dropped from another world. 
 138
 
 Baby Mine 139 
 
 Finding attention temporarily diverted from 
 himself, Jimmy had begun to rearrange both 
 his mind and his cravat when he felt rather 
 than saw that his two persecutors were regard- 
 ing him with a steady, determined gaze. In spite 
 of himself, Jimmy raised his eyes to theirs. 
 
 " Twins ! " was their laconic answer. 
 
 Now, Jimmy had heard Maggie's announce- 
 ment about the bountiful supply of offspring 
 lately arrived at her house, but not until he caught 
 the fanatical gleam in the eyes of his companions 
 did he understand the part they meant him to 
 play in their next adventure. He waited for no 
 explanation he bolted toward the door. 
 
 " Wait, Jimmy," commanded Aggie. But it 
 was not until she had laid firm hold of him that 
 he waited. 
 
 Surprised by such strange behaviour on the 
 part of those whom she considered her superiors, 
 Maggie looked first at Aggie, then at Jimmy, 
 then at Zoie, uncertain whether to go or to stay. 
 
 " Anythin' to go back, mum?" she stammered. 
 
 Zoie stared at Maggie solemnly from across 
 the foot of the bed. " Maggie," she asked in a 
 deep, sepulchral tone, "where do you live?" 
 
 " Just around the corner on High Street, 
 mum," gasped Maggie. Then, keeping her eyes 
 fixed uneasily on Zoie she picked up her basket and 
 backed cautiously toward the door. 
 
 " Wait ! " commanded Zoie ; and Maggie
 
 140 Baby Mine 
 
 paused, one foot in mid-air. " Wait in the hall," 
 said Zoie. 
 
 " Yes'um," assented Maggie, almost in a whis- 
 per. Then she nodded her head jerkily, cast an- 
 other furtive glance at the three persons who were 
 regarding her so strangely, and slipped quickly 
 through the door. 
 
 Having crossed the room and stealthily closed 
 the door, Aggie returned to Jimmy, who was 
 watching her with the furtive expression of a 
 trapped animal. 
 
 " It's Providence," she declared, with a grave 
 countenance. 
 
 Jimmy looked up at Aggie with affected inno- 
 cence, then rolled his round eyes away from her. 
 He was confronted by Zoie, who had approached 
 from the opposite side of the room. 
 
 " It's Fate," declared Zoie, in awe-struck tones. 
 
 Jimmy was beginning to wriggle, but he kept 
 up a last desperate pretence of not understanding 
 them. 
 
 " You needn't tell me I'm going to take the 
 wash to the old lady," he said, " for I'm not 
 going to do it." 
 
 " It isn't the wash," said Aggie, and her tone 
 warned him that she expected no nonsense from 
 him. 
 
 " You know what we are thinking about just 
 as well as we do," said Zoie. " I'll write that 
 washerwoman a note and tell her we must have
 
 Baby Mine 141 
 
 one of those babies right now." And with that 
 she turned toward her desk and began rummag- 
 ing amongst her papers for a pencil and pad. 
 " The luck of these poor," she murmured. 
 
 " The luck of us," corrected Aggie, whose 
 spirits were now soaring. Then she turned to 
 Jimmy with growing enthusiasm. " Just think 
 of it, dear," she said, " Fate has sent us a baby 
 to our very door." 
 
 " Well," declared Jimmy, again beginning to 
 show signs of fight, " if Fate has sent a baby 
 to the door, you don't need me," and with that 
 he snatched his coat from the crib. 
 
 " Wait, Jimmy," again commanded Aggie, and 
 she took his coat gently but firmly from him. 
 
 " Now, see here," argued Jimmy, trying to get 
 free from his strong-minded spouse, " you know 
 perfectly well that that washerwoman isn't going 
 io let us have that baby." 
 
 " Nonsense," called Zoie over her shoulder, 
 while she scribbled a hurried note to the washer- 
 woman. " If she won't let us have it * for keeps,' 
 I'll just 'rent it.'" 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed Jimmy in genuine 
 horror. " Warm, fresh, palpitating babies 
 rented as you would rent a gas stove ! " 
 
 " That's all a pose," declared Aggie, in a mat- 
 ter-of-fact tone. " You think babies * little red 
 worms,' you've said so." 
 
 Jimmy could not deny it.
 
 142 Baby Mine 
 
 " She'll be only too glad to rent it," declared 
 Zoie, as she glanced hurriedly through the note 
 just written, and slipped it, together with a bill, 
 into an envelope. " I'll pay her anything. It's 
 only until I can get another one." 
 
 " Another ! " shouted Jimmy, and his eyes 
 turned heavenward for help. " An endless chain 
 with me to put the links together ! " 
 
 " Don't be so theatrical," said Aggie, irrita- 
 bly, as she took up Jimmy's coat and prepared 
 to get him into it. 
 
 " Why do you make such a fuss about noth- 
 ing? " sighed Zoie. 
 
 " Nothing? " echoed Jimmy, and he looked at 
 her with wondering eyes. " I crawl about like a 
 thief in the night snatching babies from their 
 mother's breasts, and you call that nothing? " 
 
 " You don't have to * crawl,' " reminded Zoie, 
 " you can take a taxi." 
 
 " Here's your coat, dear," said Aggie gra- 
 ciously, as she endeavoured to slip Jimmy's limp 
 arms into the sleeves of the garment. 
 
 " You can take Maggie with you," said Zoie, 
 with the air of conferring a distinct favour upon 
 him. 
 
 " And the wash on my lap," added Jimmy 
 sarcastically. 
 
 " No," said Zoie, unruffled by Jimmy's ungra- 
 cious behaviour. " We'll send the wash later." 
 
 " That's very kind of you," sneered Jimmy, as
 
 Baby Mine 143 
 
 he unconsciously allowed his arms to slip into the 
 sleeves of the coat Aggie was urging upon him. 
 
 " All you need to do," said Aggie complacently, 
 " is to get us the baby." 
 
 " Yes," said Jimmy, " and what do you sup- 
 pose my friends would say if they were to see me 
 riding around town with the wash-lady's daugh- 
 ter and a baby on my lap? What would you 
 say? " he asked Aggie, "if you didn't know the 
 facts?" 
 
 " Nobody's going to see you," answered Aggie 
 impatiently ; " it's only around the corner. Go 
 on, Jimmy, be a good boy." 
 
 " You mean a good thing," retorted Jimmy 
 without budging from the spot. 
 
 " How ridiculous ! " exclaimed Zoie ; " it's as 
 easy as can be." 
 
 " Yes, the first one sounded easy, too," said 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " All you have to do," explained Zoie, trying 
 to restrain her rising intolerance of his stupidity, 
 " is to give this note to Maggie's mother. She'll 
 give you her baby, you bring it back here, we'll 
 give you this one, and you can take it right back 
 to the Home." 
 
 " And meet the other mother," concluded 
 Jimmy with a shake of his head. 
 
 There was a distinct threat in Zoie's voice when 
 she again addressed the stubborn Jimmy and the 
 glitter of triumph was in her eyes.
 
 144 Baby Mine 
 
 " You'd better meet here there than here" she 
 warned him ; " you know what the Superintendent 
 said." 
 
 " That's true," agreed Aggie with an anxious 
 face. " Come now," she pleaded, " it will only 
 take a minute ; you can do the whole thing before 
 you have had time to think." 
 
 " Before I have had time to think," repeated 
 Jimmy excitedly. " That's how you get me to 
 do everything. Well, this time I've had time to 
 think and I don't think I will!" and with that 
 he threw himself upon the couch, unmindful of 
 the damage to the freshly laundered clothes. 
 
 " Get up," cried Zoie. 
 
 " You haven't time to sit down," said Aggie. 
 
 " I'll take time," declared Jimmy. His eyes 
 blinked ominously and he remained glued to the 
 couch. 
 
 There was a short silence ; the two women gazed 
 at Jimmy in despair. Remembering a fresh 
 grievance, Jimmy turned upon them. 
 
 " By the way," he said, " do you two know that 
 I haven't had anything to eat yet? " 
 
 " And do you know," said Zoie, " that Alfred 
 may be back at any minute? He can't stay away 
 forever." 
 
 "Not unless he has cut his throat," rejoined 
 Jimmy, " and that's what I'd do if I had a razor." 
 
 Zoie regarded Jimmy as though he were be- 
 yond redemption. " Can't you ever think of any-
 
 Baby Mine 145 
 
 body but yourself? " she asked, with a martyred 
 air. 
 
 Had Jimmy been half his age, Aggie would 
 have felt sure that she saw him make a face at 
 her friend for answer. As it was, she resolved 
 to make one last effort to awaken her unobliging 
 spouse to a belated sense of duty. 
 
 " You see, dear," she said, " you might better 
 get the washerwoman's baby than to go from 
 house to house for one," and she glanced again 
 toward the paper. 
 
 "Yes," urged Zoie, "and that's just what 
 you'll have to do, if you don't get this one." 
 
 Jimmy's head hung dejectedly. It was appar- 
 ent that his courage was slipping from him. Ag- 
 gie was quick to realise her opportunity, and be- 
 fore Jimmy could protect himself from her 
 treacherous wiles, she had slipped one arm coyly 
 about his neck. 
 
 " Now, Jimmy," she pleaded as she pressed her 
 soft cheek to his throbbing temple, and toyed 
 with the bay curl on his perspiring forehead, 
 "wont you do this little teeny-weeny thing just 
 forme?" 
 
 Jimmy's lips puckered in a pout; he began to 
 blink nervously. Aggie slipped her other arm 
 about his neck. 
 
 " You know," she continued with a baby 
 whine, " I got Zoie into this, and I've just got to 
 get her out of it. You're not going to desert me,
 
 146 Baby Mine 
 
 are you, Jimmy? You will help me, won't you, 
 dear?" Her breath was on Jimmy's cheek; he 
 could feel her lips stealing closer to his. He had 
 not been treated to much affection of late. His 
 head drooped lower he began to twiddle the fob 
 on his watch chain. "Won't you?" persisted 
 Aggie. 
 
 Jimmy studied the toes of his boots. 
 
 " Won't you? " she repeated, and her soft eye- 
 lashes just brushed the tip of his retrousee nose. 
 
 Jimmy's head was now wagging from side to 
 side. 
 
 "Won't you?" she entreated a fourth time, 
 and she kissed him full on the lips. 
 
 With a resigned sigh, Jimmy rose mechanic- 
 ally from the heap of crushed laundry and held 
 out his fat chubby hand. 
 
 " Give me the letter," he groaned. 
 
 " Here you are," said Zoie, taking Jimmy's 
 acquiescence as a matter of course; and she 
 thrust the letter into the pocket of Jimmy's ul- 
 ster. " Now, when you get back with the baby," 
 she continued, " don't come in all of a sudden ; 
 just wait outside and whistle. You can whistle, 
 can't you? " she asked with a doubtful air. 
 
 For answer, Jimmy placed two fingers between 
 his lips and produced a shrill whistle that made 
 both Zoie and Aggie glance nervously toward Al- 
 fred's bedroom door. 
 
 " Yes, you can whistle," admitted Zoie, then
 
 Baby Mine 147 
 
 she continued her directions. " If Alfred is not 
 in the room, I'll raise the shade and you can come 
 right up." 
 
 " And if he is in the room ? " asked Jimmy with 
 a fine shade of sarcasm. 
 
 " If he is in the room," explained Zoie, " you 
 must wait outside until I can get rid of him." 
 
 Jimmy turned his eyes toward Aggie to ask 
 if it were possible that she still approved of 
 Zoie's inhuman plan. For answer Aggie stroked 
 his coat collar fondly. 
 
 " We'll give you the signal the moment the 
 coast is clear," she said, then she hurriedly but- 
 toned Jimmy's large ulster and wound a muffler 
 about his neck. " There now, dear, do go, you're 
 all buttoned up," and with that she urged him to- 
 ward the door. 
 
 " Just a minute," protested Jimmy, as he 
 paused on the threshold. " Let me get this right, 
 if the shade is up, I stay down." 
 
 " Not at all," corrected Aggie and Zoie in a 
 breath. " If the shade is up, you come up." 
 
 Jimmy cast another martyred look in Zoie's 
 direction. 
 
 "You won't hurry will you?" he said, "you 
 know it is only twenty-three below zero and I 
 haven't had anything to eat yet and " 
 
 " Yes, we know," interrupted the two women 
 in chorus, and then Aggie added wearily, " go 
 on, Jimmy; don't be funny."
 
 148 Baby Mine 
 
 "Funny?" snorted Jimmy. "With a baby 
 on my lap and the wash lady's daughter, I won't 
 be funny, oh no ! " 
 
 It is doubtful whether Jimmy would not liave 
 worked himself into another state of open rebel- 
 lion had not Aggie put an end to his pro- 
 tests by thrusting him firmly out of the room and 
 closing the door behind him. After this act of 
 heroic decision on her part, the two women lis- 
 tened intently, fearing that he might return; but 
 presently they heard the bang of the outer door, 
 and at last they drew a long breath of relief. 
 For the first time since Alfred's arrival, Aggie 
 was preparing to sink into a chair, when she was 
 startled by a sharp exclamation from Zoie. 
 
 " Good heavens," cried Zoie, " I forgot to ask 
 Maggie." 
 
 "Ask her what?" questioned Aggie. 
 
 " Boys or girls," said Zoie, with a solemn look 
 toward the door through which Jimmy had just 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Well," decided Aggie, after a moment's re- 
 flection, " it's too late now. Anyway," she 
 concluded philosophically, " we couldn't change 
 it."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 WITH more or less damage to himself conse- 
 quent on his excitement, Alfred completed his 
 shaving and hastened to return to his wife and 
 the babe. Finding the supposedly ill Zoie ca- 
 reering about the centre of the room expostulat- 
 ing with Aggie, the young man stopped dumb- 
 founded 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 
 
 149
 
 150 Baby Mine 
 
 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. 
 
 But Alfred did not see the look of disgust on 
 Zoie's face. He was wholly absorbed by baby. 
 
 " What a funny face," he cooed as he pinched 
 the youngster's cheek. " Great Scott, what a 
 grip," he cried as the infant's fingers closed 
 around his own. " Will you look at the size of 
 those hands," he exclaimed. 
 
 Zoie and Aggie exchanged worried glances ; the 
 baby had no doubt inherited his large hands from 
 his mother. 
 
 " Say, Aggie," called Alfred, " what are all of 
 these little specks on baby's forehead?" He 
 pointed toward the infant's brow. " One, two, 
 three," he counted. 
 
 Zoie was becoming more and more uncomfort- 
 able at the close proximity of the little stranger. 
 
 " 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
 
 Baby Mine 151 
 
 dangerous, isn't it? We'd better call up the doc- 
 tor." And he rose and started hurriedly toward 
 the telephone, baby in arms. 
 
 " Don't be silly," called Zoie, filled with vagu3 
 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 Al-
 
 152 Baby Mine 
 
 f red'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 embarrass- 
 ment at being over-praised, Alfred bore the in- 
 fant 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 doubt- 
 ing his own ears. But before he could remon- 
 strate 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 com- 
 ing 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.
 
 Baby Mine 153 
 
 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 Ag- 
 gie 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 Al- 
 fred 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 per- 
 son 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 em- 
 brace, his mind was distracted by an uneasy 
 
 thought. "Do you think that Baby is " 
 
 He was not permitted to finish the sentence.
 
 154 Baby Mine 
 
 Zoie drew him back to her with a sharp exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 " 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 him- 
 self 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
 
 Baby Mine 155 
 
 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 un- 
 easiness. 
 
 " 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 seek- 
 ing 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, remon- 
 strating with her for being so spoiled, and cau- 
 tioning 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.
 
 156 Baby Mine 
 
 Again Alfred stooped to humour the small im- 
 portunate person who was so jealous of his every 
 thought, but just as his lips touched her fore- 
 head 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. 
 
 A redoubled effort on the part of the young 
 stranger directed their attention in the right di- 
 rection. 
 
 " My God ! " exclaimed Alfred tragically, 
 " it's Baby. He's crying." And with that, he 
 rushed to the crib and clasped the small mite 
 close to his breast, leaving Zoie to pummel the 
 pillows in an agony of vexation. 
 
 After vain cajoling of the angry youngster, 
 Alfred bore him excitedly to Zoie's bedside. 
 
 " You'd better take him, dear," he said. 
 
 To the young husband's astonishment, Zoie 
 waved him from her in terror, and called loudly 
 for Aggie. But no sooner had Aggie appeared 
 on the scene, than a sharp whistle was heard from 
 the pavement below. 
 
 " Pull down the shade ! " cried Zoie frantically. 
 
 Aggie hastened toward the window. 
 
 Attributing Zoie's uneasiness to a caprice of 
 modesty, Alfred turned from the cradle to reas- 
 sure her.
 
 Baby Mine 157 
 
 " No one can see in way up here," he said. 
 
 To Zoie's distress, the lowering of the shade 
 was answered by a yet shriller whistle from the 
 street below. 
 
 " Was it * up ' or * down '? " cried Zoie to Ag- 
 gie in an agony of doubt, as she tried to recall 
 her instructions to Jimmy. 
 
 " I don't know," answered Aggie. " I've for- 
 gotten." 
 
 Another impatient whistle did not improve 
 their memory. Alarmed by Zoie's increasing ex- 
 citement, and thinking she was troubled merely 
 by a sick woman's fancy that someone might see 
 through the window, Alfred placed the babe 
 quickly in its cradle and crossed to the young 
 wife's bed. 
 
 " It was up, dear," he said. " You had Aggie 
 put it down." 
 
 " Then I want it up," declared the seemingly 
 perverse Zoie. 
 
 " But it was up," argued Alfred. 
 
 A succession of emotional whistles set Zoie to 
 pounding the pillows. 
 
 " Put it down ! " she commanded. 
 
 " But Zoie " protested Alfred. 
 
 "Did I say * up ' or did I say *down'?" 
 moaned the half-demented Zoie, while long whis- 
 tles and short whistles, appealing whistles and 
 impatient whistles followed each other in quick 
 succession.
 
 158 Baby Mine 
 
 " You said down, dear," persisted Alfred, now 
 almost as distracted as his wife. 
 
 Zoie waved him from the room. " I wish you'd 
 get out of here," she cried ; " you make me so 
 nervous that I can't think at all." 
 
 " Of course, dear," murmured Alfred, " if you 
 wish it." And with a hurt and perplexed expres- 
 sion on his face he backed quickly from the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WHEN Zoie's letter asking for the O'Flarety 
 twin had reached that young lady's astonished 
 mother, Mrs. O'Flarety felt herself suddenly 
 lifted to a position of importance. 
 
 " Think of the purty Mrs. Hardy a wantin' 
 my little Bridget," she exclaimed, and she began 
 to dwell upon the romantic possibilities of her off- 
 spring's future under the care of such a " foine 
 stylish lady and concluded by declaring it * a 
 lucky day entoirely.' ' 
 
 Jimmy had his misgivings about it being Brid- 
 get's " lucky day," but it was not for him to 
 delay matters by dwelling upon the eccentricities 
 of Zoie's character, and when Mrs. O'Flarety 
 had deposited Bridget in Jimmy's short arms and 
 slipped a well filled nursing bottle into his over- 
 coat pocket, he took his leave hastily, lest the 
 excited woman add Bridget's twin to her willing 
 offering. 
 
 Once out of sight of the elated mother, Jimmy 
 thrust the defenceless Bridget within the folds 
 of his already snug ulster, buttoned the garment 
 in such places as it would meet, and made for the 
 taxi which, owing to the upset condition of the 
 
 159
 
 160 Baby Mine 
 
 street, he had been obliged to abandon at the 
 corner. 
 
 Whether the driver had obtained a more prom- 
 ising " fare " or been run in by the police, Jimmy 
 never knew. At any rate it was in vain that he 
 looked for his vehicle. So intense was the cold 
 that it was impossible to wait for a chance taxi ; 
 furthermore, the meanness of the district made it 
 extremely unlikely that one would appear, and 
 glancing guiltily behind him to make sure that 
 no one was taking cognisance of his strange ex- 
 ploit, Jimmy began picking his way along dark 
 lanes and avoiding the lighted thoroughfare on 
 which the " Sherwood " was situated, until he was 
 within a block of his destination. 
 
 Panting with haste and excitement, he even- 
 tually gained courage to dash through a side 
 street that brought him within a few doors of the 
 " Sherwood." Again glancing behind him, he 
 turned the well lighted corner and arrived beneath 
 Zoie's window to find one shade up and one down. 
 In his perplexity he emitted a faint whistle. Im- 
 mediately he saw the other shade lowered. Uncer- 
 tain as to what arrangement he had actually made 
 with Zoie, he ventured a second whistle. The 
 result was a hysterical running up and down of 
 the shade which left him utterly bewildered as to 
 what disposition he was supposed to make of the 
 wobbly bit of humanity pressed against his shirt 
 front.
 
 Baby Mine 161 
 
 Reaching over his artificially curved figure to 
 grasp a bit of white that trailed below his coat, 
 he looked up to see a passing policeman eyeing 
 him suspiciously. 
 
 "Taking the air?" asked the policeman. 
 
 " Ye-yes," mumbled Jimmy with affected non- 
 chalence and he knocked the heels of his boots to- 
 gether in order to keep his teeth from chatter- 
 ing. " It's a fi-fine ni-night for air," he stut- 
 tered. 
 
 " Is it ? " said the policeman, and to Jimmy's 
 horror, he saw the fellow's eyes fix themselves on 
 the bit of white. 
 
 " Go-good-night," stammered Jimmy hur- 
 riedly, and trying to assume an easy stride in 
 spite of the uncomfortable addition to his already 
 rotund figure, he slipped into the hotel, where 
 avoiding the lighted elevator, he laboured quickly, 
 up the stairs. 
 
 At the very moment when Zoie was driving 
 Alfred in consternation from the room, Jimmy 
 entered it uninvited. 
 
 " Get out," was the inhospitable greeting re- 
 ceived simultaneously from Zoie and Aggie, and 
 Avithout waiting for further instructions he 
 " got." 
 
 Fortunately for all concerned, Alfred, who was 
 at the same moment departing by way of the bed- 
 room door, did not look behind him; but it was 
 some minutes before Aggie who had followed
 
 162 Baby Mine 
 
 Jimmy into the hall could persuade him to re- 
 turn. 
 
 After repeated and insistent signals both from 
 Aggie and Zoie, Jimmy's round red face ap- 
 peared cautiously around the frame of the door. 
 It bore unmistakable indications of apoplexy. 
 But the eyes of the women were not upon Jimmy's 
 face ; they too had caught sight of the bit of white 
 that hung below his coat, and dragging him 
 quickly into the room and closing the door, Ag- 
 gie proceeded without inquiry or thanks to un- 
 button his coat and to take from beneath it the 
 small object for which she and Zoie had been 
 eagerly waiting. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " sighed Zoie, as she saw 
 Aggie bearing the latest acquisition to Alfred's 
 rapidly increasing family safely toward the crib. 
 
 Suddenly remembering something in his right 
 hand coat pocket, Jimmy called to Aggie, who 
 turned to him and waited expectantly. After 
 characteristic fumbling, he produced a well filled 
 nursing bottle. 
 
 "What's that?" asked Zoie. 
 
 " For Her," grunted Jimmy, and he nodded 
 toward the bundle in Aggie's arms. 
 
 " Her! " cried Zoie and Aggie in chorus. Zoie 
 shut her lips hard and gazed at him with con- 
 tempt. 
 
 " I might have known you'd get the wrong 
 kind," she said.
 
 Baby Mine 1655 
 
 What Jimmy thought about the ingratitude of 
 woman was not to be expressed in language. 
 He controlled himself as well as he could and 
 merely looked the things that he would like to 
 have said. 
 
 " Well, it can't be helped now," decided the 
 philosophic Aggie; "here, Jimmy," she said, 
 " you hold * her ' a minute and I'll get you the 
 other one." 
 
 Placing the small creature in Jimmy's protest- 
 ing arms, Aggie turned toward the cradle to 
 make the proposed exchange when she was star- 
 tled by the unexpected return of Alfred. 
 
 Thanks to the ample folds of Jimmy's ulster, 
 he was able to effectually conceal his charge 
 and he started quickly toward the hall, but in 
 making the necessary detour around the couch 
 he failed to reach the door before Alfred, who 
 had chosen a more direct way. 
 
 " Hold on, Jimmy," exclaimed Alfred good-na- 
 turedly, and he laid a detaining hand on his 
 friend's shoulder. *' Where are you going?" 
 
 " I'll be back," stammered Jimmy weakly, edg- 
 ing his way toward the door, and contriving to 
 keep his back toward Alfred. 
 
 " Wait a minute," s-aid Alfred j ovially, as he 
 let his hand slip onto Jimmy's arm, " you 
 haven't told me the news yet." 
 
 " I'll tell you later," mumbled Jimmy, still try- 
 ing to escape. But Alfred's eye had fallen upon.
 
 164 Baby Mine 
 
 a bit of white flannel dangling below the bottom 
 of Jimmy's ulster, it travelled upward to Jimmy's 
 unusually rotund figure. 
 
 "What have you got there?" he demanded to 
 know, as he pointed toward the centre button of 
 Jimmy's overcoat. 
 
 "Here?" echoed Jimmy vapidly, glancing at 
 the button in question, "why, that's just a lit- 
 tle " There was a faint wail from the 
 
 depths of the ulster. Jimmy began to caper 
 about with elephantine tread. " Oochie, coochie, 
 oochie," he called excitedly. 
 
 " What's the matter with you? " asked Alfred. 
 The wail became a shriek. " Good Heavens ! " 
 cried the anxious father, " it's my boy." And 
 with that he pounced upon Jimmy, threw wide his 
 ulster and snatched from his arms Jimmy's latest 
 contribution to Zoie's scheme of things. 
 
 As Aggie had previously remarked, all young 
 babies look very much alike, and to the inexper- 
 ienced eye of this new and overwrought father, 
 there was no difference between the infant that 
 he now pressed to his breast, and the one that, 
 unsuspected by him, lay peacefully dozing in the 
 crib, not ten feet from him. He gazed at the 
 face of the newcomer with the same ecstasy that 
 he had felt in the possession of her predecessor. 
 But Zoie and Aggie were looking at each other 
 with something quite different from ecstasy. 
 
 " My boy," exclaimed Alfred, with deep emo-
 
 Baby Mine 165 
 
 tion, as he clasped the tiny creature to his breast. 
 Then he turned to Jimmy. " What were you do- 
 ing with my baby?" he demanded hotly. 
 
 " I I was just taking him out for a little 
 walk ! " stammered Jimmy. 
 
 "You just try," threatened Alfred, and he 
 towered over the intimidated Jimmy. " Are you 
 crazy? " 
 
 Jimmy was of the opinion that he must be 
 crazy or he would never have found himself in 
 such a predicament as this, but the anxious faces 
 of Zoie and Aggie, denied him the luxury of de- 
 claring himself so. He sank mutely on the end 
 of the couch and proceeded to sulk in silence. 
 
 As for Aggie and Zoie, they continued to gaze 
 open-mouthed at Alfred, who was waltzing about 
 the room transported into a new heaven of delight 
 at having snatched his heir from the danger of 
 another night ramble with Jimmy. 
 
 " Did a horrid old Jimmy spoil his * itty 
 nap '? " he gurgled to Baby. Then with a sud- 
 den exclamation of alarm, he turned toward the 
 anxious women. "Aggie ! " he cried, as he stared 
 intently into Baby's face. "Look his rash! 
 It's turned in! " 
 
 Aggie pretended to glance over Alfred's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Why so it has," she agreed nervously. 
 
 " W^at shall we do? " cried the distraught Al- 
 xi-ea.
 
 166 Baby Mine 
 
 " It's all right now," counselled Aggie, " so 
 long as it didn't turn in too suddenly." 
 
 " \Ve'd better keep him warm, hadn't we?" 
 suggested Alfred, remembering Aggie's previous 
 instructions on a similar occasion. " I'll put him 
 in his crib," he decided, and thereupon he made a 
 quick move toward the bassinette. 
 
 Staggering back from the cradle with the un- 
 steadiness of a drunken man Alfred called upon 
 the Diety. " What is that? " he demanded as he 
 pointed toward the unexpected object before 
 him. 
 
 Neither Zoie, Aggie, nor Jimmy could com- 
 mand words to assist Alfred's rapidly waning 
 powers of comprehension, and it was not until he 
 had swept each face for the third time with a 
 look of inquiry that Zoie found breath to stam- 
 mer nervously, " Why why why, that's the 
 other one." 
 
 "The other one?" echoed Alfred in a dazed 
 manner; then he turned to Aggie for further ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " Yes," affirmed Aggie, with an emphatic nod, 
 "the other one." 
 
 An undescribable joy was dawning on Alfred's 
 face. 
 
 " You don't mean " He stared from the in- 
 fant in his arms to the one in the cradle, then 
 back again at Aggie and Zoie. The women sol- 
 emnly nodded their heads. Even Jimmy unblush-
 
 Baby Mine 167 
 
 ingly acquiesced. Alfred turned toward Zoie for 
 the final confirmation of his hopes. 
 
 " Yes, dear," assented Zoie sweetly, " that's 
 Alfred." 
 
 What Jimmy and the women saw next appeared 
 to be the dance of a whirling dervish; as a matter 
 of fact, it was merely a man, mad with delight, 
 clasping two infants in long clothes and circling 
 the room with them. 
 
 When Alfred could again enunciate distinctly, 
 he rushed to Zoie's side with the babes in his 
 arms. 
 
 " My darling," he exclaimed, " why didn't you 
 tell me?" 
 
 " I was ashamed," whispered Zoie, hiding her 
 head to shut out the sight of the red faces pressed 
 close to hers. 
 
 " My angel ! " cried Alfred, struggling to con- 
 trol his complicated emotions ; then gazing at the 
 precious pair in his arms, he cast his eyes devoutly 
 toward heaven, " Was ever a man so blessed? " 
 
 Zoie peeped from the covers with affected shy- 
 ness. 
 
 " You love me just as much? " she queried. 
 
 " I love you twice as much," declared Alfred, 
 and with that he sank exhausted on the foot of 
 the bed, vainly trying to teeter one son on each 
 knee.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 WHEN Jimmy gained courage to turn his eyes 
 in the direction of the family group he had helped 
 to assemble, he was not reassured by the re- 
 proachful glances that he met from Aggie and 
 Zoie. It was apparent that in their minds, he 
 was again to blame for something. Realising 
 that they dared not openly reproach him before 
 Alfred, he decided to make his escape while his 
 friend was still in the room. He reached for his 
 hat and tiptoed gingerly toward the door, but 
 just as he was congratulating himself upon his 
 decision, Alfred called to him with a mysterious 
 air. 
 
 "Jimmy," he said, "just a minute," and he 
 nodded for Jimmy to approach. 
 
 It must have been Jimmy's guilty conscience 
 that made him powerless to disobey Alfred's every 
 command. Anyway, he slunk back to the fond 
 parent's side, where he ultimately allowed himself 
 to be inveigled into swinging his new watch be- 
 fore the unattentive eyes of the red-faced babes 
 on Alfred's knees. 
 
 " Lower, Jimmy, lower," called Alfred as 
 Jimmy absent-mindedly allowed the watch to 
 swing out of the prescribed orbit. " Look at 
 168
 
 Baby Mine 169 
 
 the darlings, Jimmy, look at them," he exclaimed 
 as he gazed at the small creatures admiringly. 
 
 " Yes, look at them, Jimmy," repeated Zoie, 
 and she glared at Jimmy behind Alfred's back. 
 
 " Don't you wish you had one of them, 
 Jimmy?"' asked Alfred. 
 
 " Well, 7 wish he had," commented Zoie, and 
 she wondered how she was ever again to detach 
 either of them from Alfred's breast. 
 
 Before she could form any plan, the telephone 
 rang loud and persistently^ Jimmy glanced 
 anxiously toward the women for instructions. 
 
 " I'll answer it." said Aggie with suspicious 
 alacrity, and she crossed quickly toward the 
 'phone. The scattered bits of conversation that 
 Zoie was able to gather from Aggie's end of the 
 wire did not tend to soothe her over-excited nerves. 
 As for Alfred, he was fortunately so engrossed 
 with the babies that he took little notice of what 
 Aggie was saying. 
 
 " What woman? " asked Aggie into the 'phone. 
 "Where's she from?" The answer was evi- 
 dently not reassuring. " Certainly not," ex- 
 claimed Aggie, " don't let her come up ; send her 
 away. Mrs. Hardy can't see anyone at all." 
 Then followed a bit of pantomime between Zoie 
 and Aggie, from which it appeared that their 
 troubles were multiplying, then Aggie again gave 
 her attention to the 'phone. " I don't know any- 
 thing about her," she ribbed, " that woman must
 
 170 Baby Mine 
 
 have the wrong address." And with that she 
 hung up the receiver and came towards Alfred, 
 anxious to get possession of his two small charges 
 and to get them from the room, lest the mother 
 who was apparently downstairs should thrust 
 herself into their midst. 
 
 "What's the trouble, Aggie?" asked Alfred, 
 and he nodded toward the telephone. 
 
 " Oh, just some woman with the wrong ad- 
 dress," answered Aggie with affected carelessness. 
 " You'd better let me take the babies now, Al- 
 fred." 
 
 "Take them where?" asked Alfred with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " To bed," answered Aggie sweetly, " they are 
 going to sleep in the next room with Jimmy and 
 me." She laid a detaining hand on Jimmy's arm. 
 
 " What's the hurry? " asked Alfred a bit dis- 
 gruntled. 
 
 " It's very late," argued Aggie. 
 
 " Of course it is," insisted Zoie. " Please, Al- 
 fred," she pleaded, " do let Aggie take them." 
 
 Alfred rose reluctantly. " Mother knows 
 best," he sighed, but ignoring Aggie's out- 
 stretched arms, he refused to relinquish the joy 
 of himself carrying the small mites to their room, 
 and he disappeared with the two of them, singing 
 his now favourite lullaby. 
 
 When Alfred had left the room, Jimmy, who 
 was now seated comfortably in the rocker, was
 
 Baby Mine 171 
 
 rudely startled by a sharp voice at either side 
 of him. 
 
 "Well!" shrieked Zoie, with all the disap- 
 proval that could be got into the one small word. 
 
 " You're very clever, aren't you? " sneered Ag- 
 gie at Jimmy's other elbow. 
 
 Jimmy stared from one to the other. 
 
 " A nice fix you've got me into now," reproved 
 Zoie. 
 
 " Why didn't you get out when you had the 
 chance? " demanded Aggie. 
 
 " You would take your own sweet time, wouldn't 
 you," said Zoie. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" asked Aggie. 
 
 "What does he care?" exclaimed Zoie, and 
 she walked up and down the room excitedly, ob- 
 livious of the disarrangement of her flying neg- 
 ligee. " He's perfectly comfortable." 
 
 " Oh yes," assented Jimmy, as he sank back 
 into the rocker and began propelling himself to 
 and fro. " I never felt better," but a disinter- 
 ested observer would have seen in him the picture 
 of discomfort. 
 
 " You're going to feel a great deal worse" he 
 was warned by Aggie. " Do you know who that 
 was on the telephone? " she asked. 
 
 Jimmy looked at her mutely. 
 
 " The mother ! " said Aggie emphatically. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Jimmy. 
 
 " She's down stairs," explained Aggie.
 
 172 Baby Mine 
 
 Jimmy had stopped rocking his face now 
 wore an uneasy expression. 
 
 " It's time you showed a little human intelli- 
 gence," taunted Zoie, then she turned her back 
 upon him and continued to Aggie, " what did she 
 say?" 
 
 " She says," answered Aggie, with a threaten- 
 ing glance toward Jimmy, " that she won't leave 
 this place until Jimmy gives her baby back." 
 
 " Let her have her old baby," said Jimmy. 
 " I don't want it." 
 
 " You don't want it?" snapped Zoie indig- 
 nantly, " what have you got to do with it? " 
 
 " Oh nothing, nothing," acquiesced Jimmy 
 meekly, " I'm a mere detail." 
 
 " A lot you care what becomes of me," ex- 
 claimed Zoie reproachfully; then she turned to 
 Aggie with a decided nod. " Well, I want it," 
 she asserted. 
 
 " But Zoie," protested Aggie in astonishment, 
 " you can't mean to keep both of them? " 
 
 " I certainly do" said Zoie. 
 
 "What?" cried Aggie and Jimmy in concert. 
 
 " Jimmy has presented Alfred with twins," con- 
 tinued Zoie testily, " and now, he has to have 
 twins." 
 
 Jimmy's eyes were growing rounder and 
 rounder. 
 
 " Do you know," continued Zoie, with a grow- 
 ing sense of indignation, " what would happen to
 
 Baby Mine 173 
 
 me if I told Alfred now that he wasn't the father 
 of twins? He'd fly straight out of that door and 
 I'd never see him again." 
 
 Aggie admitted that Zoie was no doubt speak- 
 ing the truth. 
 
 " Jimmy has awakened Alfred's paternal in- 
 stinct for twins," declared Zoie, with another em- 
 phatic nod of her head, " and now Jimmy must 
 take the consequences." 
 
 Jimmy tried to frame a few faint objections, 
 but Zoie waved him aside, with a positive air. 
 " It's no use arguing. If it were only one, it 
 wouldn't be so bad, but to tell Alfred that he's 
 lost twins, he couldn't live through it." 
 
 " But Zoie," argued Aggie, " we can't have 
 that mother hanging around down stairs until 
 that baby is an old man. She'll have us arrested, 
 the next thing." 
 
 " Why arrest us? " asked Zoie, with wide baby 
 eyes. " We didn't take it. Old slow-poke took 
 it." And she nodded toward the now utterly 
 vanquished Jimmy. 
 
 " That's right," murmured Jimmy, with a weak 
 attempt at sarcasm, " don't leave me out of any- 
 thing good." 
 
 " It doesn't matter which one she arrests," de- 
 cided the practical Aggie. 
 
 " Well, it matters to me," objected Zoie. 
 
 " And to me too, if it's all the same to you," 
 protested Jimmy.
 
 174 Baby Mine 
 
 " Whoever it is," continued Aggie, " the truth 
 is bound to come out. Alfred will have to know 
 sooner or later, so we might as well make a clean 
 breast of it, first as last." 
 
 " That's the first sensible thing you've said 
 in three months," declared Jimmy with reviving 
 hope. 
 
 " Oh, is that so ? " sneered Zoie, and she lev- 
 elled her most malicious look at Jimmy. " What 
 do you think Alfred would do to you, Mr. Jimmy, 
 if he knew the truth? You're the one who sent 
 him the telegram; you are the one who told him 
 that he was a father." 
 
 " That's true," admitted Aggie, with a wrin- 
 kled forehead. 
 
 Zoie was quick to see her advantage. She fol- 
 lowed it up. " And Alfred hasn't any sense of 
 humour, you know." 
 
 " How could he have? " groaned Jimmy; " he's 
 married." And with that he sank into his habit- 
 ual state of dumps. 
 
 " Your sarcasm will do a great deal of good," 
 flashed Zoie. Then she dismissed him with a nod, 
 and crossed to her dressing table. 
 
 " But Zoie," persisted Aggie, as she followed 
 her young friend in trepidation, " don't you real- 
 ise that if you persist in keeping this baby, that 
 mother will dog Jimmy's footsteps for the rest 
 of his life?" 
 
 " That will be nice," murmured Jimmy.
 
 Baby Mine 175 
 
 Zoie busied herself with her toilet, and turned 
 a deaf ear to Aggie. There was a touch of gen- 
 uine emotion in Aggie's voice when she continued. 
 
 " Just think of it, Zoie, Jimmy will never be 
 able to come and go like a free man again." 
 
 " What do I care how he comes and goes ? " 
 exclaimed Zoie impatiently. " If Jimmy had 
 gone when we told him to go, that woman would 
 have had her old baby by now; but he didn't, oh 
 no! All he ever does is to sit around and talk 
 about his dinner." 
 
 " Yes," cried Jimmy hotly, " and that's about 
 as far as I ever get with it." 
 
 " You'll never get anywhere with anything," 
 was Zoie's exasperating answer. " You're too 
 slow." 
 
 " Well, there's nothing slow about you," re- 
 torted Jimmy, stung to a frenzy by her inso- 
 lence. 
 
 " Oh please, please," interposed Aggie, des- 
 perately determined to keep these two irascible 
 persons to the main issue. " What are we going 
 to tell that mother?" 
 
 " You can tell her whatever you like," answered 
 Zoie, with an impudent toss of her head, " but I'll 
 not give up that baby until I get another one.' : 
 
 "Another?" almost shrieked Jimmy. It was 
 apparent that he must needs increase the number 
 of his brain cells if he were to follow this extra- 
 ordinary young woman's line of thought much
 
 176 Baby Mine 
 
 further. " You don't expect to go on multiply- 
 ing them forever, do you ? " he asked. 
 
 " You are the one "who has been multiplying 
 them," was Zoie's disconcerting reply. 
 
 It was evident to Jimmy that he could not 
 think fast enough nor clearly enough to save 
 himself from a mental disaster if he continued to 
 argue with the shameless young woman, so he con- 
 tented himself by rocking to and fro and mur- 
 muring dismally that he had " known from the 
 first that it was to be an endless chain." 
 
 While Zoie and Jimmy had been wrangling, 
 Aggie had been weighing the pros and cons of 
 the case. She now turned to Jimmy with a tone 
 of firm but motherly decision. " Zoie is quite 
 right," she said. 
 
 Jimmy rolled his large eyes up at his spouse 
 with a " you too, Brutus," expression. 
 
 Aggie continued mercilessly, " It's the only 
 way, Jimmy." 
 
 No sooner had Aggie arrived at her decision 
 than Zoie upset her tranquillity by a triumphant 
 expression of " I have it." 
 
 Jimmy and Aggie gazed at Zoie's radiant face 
 in consternation. They were accustomed to see 
 only reproach there. Her sudden enthusiasm in- 
 creased Jimmy's uneasiness. 
 
 " You have it," he grunted without attempting 
 to conceal his disgust. " She's the one who gen- 
 erally has it." And he nodded toward Aggie.
 
 Baby Mine 177 
 
 Inflamed by her young friend's enthusiasm, Ag- 
 gie rushed to her eagerly. 
 
 " What is it, Zoie? " she asked. 
 
 " The washerwoman ! " exclaimed Zoie, as 
 though the revelation had come straight from 
 heaven. " She had twins," and with that, two 
 pairs of eyes turned expectantly toward the only 
 man in the room. 
 
 Tracing the pattern of the rug with his toe, 
 Jimmy remained stubbornly oblivious of their 
 attentions. He rearranged the pillows on the 
 couch, and finally, for want of a better occupa- 
 tion, he wound his watch. All to no avail. He 
 could feel Zoie's cat-like gaze upon him. 
 
 " Jimmy can get the other one," she said. 
 
 " The hell I can," exclaimed Jimmy, starting 
 to his feet and no longer considering time or 
 place. 
 
 The two women gazed at him reproachfully. 
 
 " Jimmy ! " cried Aggie, in a shocked, hurt 
 voice. " That's the first time I've ever heard 
 you swear." 
 
 " Well, it won't be the last time," declared 
 Jimmy hotly, " if this keeps up." His eyes were 
 blazing. He paced to and fro like an infuriated 
 lion. 
 
 " Dearest," said Aggie, " you look almost im- 
 posing." 
 
 " Nonsense," interrupted Zoie. who found 
 Jimmy unusually ridiculous. " If I'd known that
 
 178 Baby Mine 
 
 Jimmy was going to put such an idea into Al- 
 fred's head, I'd have got the two in the first 
 place." 
 
 " Will she let us have the other ? " asked Aggie 
 with some misgiving. 
 
 " Of course she will," answered Zoie, leaving 
 Jimmy entirely out of the conversation. " She's 
 as poor as a church mouse. I'll pay her well. 
 She'll never miss it. What could she do with one 
 twin, anyway ? " 
 
 A snort of rage from Jimmy did not disturb 
 Zoie's enthusiasm. She proceeded to elaborate 
 her plan. 
 
 "I'll adopt them," she declared, "I'll leave 
 them all Alfred's money. Think of Alfred hav- 
 ing real live twins for keeps." 
 
 "It would be nice, wouldn't it?" commented 
 Jimmy sarcastically. 
 
 Zoie turned to Jimmy, as though they were on 
 the best of terms. 
 
 "How much money have you?" she asked. 
 
 Before Jimmy could declare himself penniless, 
 Aggie answered for him with the greatest enthu- 
 siasm, " He has a whole lot ; he drew some to- 
 day." 
 
 " Good ! " exclaimed Zoie to the abashed 
 Jimmy, and then she continued in a matter-of- 
 fact tone, " Now, Jimmy," she said, " you go give 
 the washwoman what money you have on account, 
 then tell her to come around here in the morning
 
 Baby Mine 179 
 
 when Alfred has gone out and I'll settle all the 
 details with her. Go on now, Jimmy," she con- 
 tinued, " you don't need another letter." 
 
 " No," chimed in Aggie sweetly ; " you know 
 her now, dear." 
 
 " Oh, yes," corroborated Jimmy, with a sar- 
 castic smile and without budging from the spot 
 on which he stood, " we are great pals now." 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Zoie, astonished 
 that Jimmy was not starting on his mission with 
 alacrity. "What are you waiting for?" 
 
 Jimmy merely continued to smile enigmatically. 
 
 " You know what happened the last time you 
 hesitated," warned Aggie. 
 
 " I know what happened when I didn't hesi- 
 tate," ruminated Jimmy, still holding his ground. 
 
 Zoie's eyes were wide with surprise. " You 
 dont mean to say," she exclaimed incredulously, 
 " that you aren't going after we have thought 
 all this out just to save you? " 
 
 " Say," answered Jimmy, with a confidential 
 air, " do me a favour, will you? Stop thinking 
 out things to * save me.' " 
 
 " But, Jimmy " protested both women 
 
 simultaneously; but before they could get fur- 
 ther Alfred's distressed voice reached them from 
 the next room. 
 
 " Aggie ! " he called frantically.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WHAT seemed to be a streak of pink through 
 the room was in reality Zoie bolting for the bed. 
 
 While Zoie hastened to snuggle comfortably 
 under the covers, Aggie tried without avail to 
 get Jimmy started on his errand. 
 
 Getting no response from Aggie, Alfred, bear- 
 ing one infant in his arms, came in search of 
 her. Apparently he was having difficulty with 
 the unfastening of baby's collar. 
 
 " Aggie," he called sharply, " how on earth do 
 you get this fool pin out ? " 
 
 " Take him back, Alfred," answered Aggie im- 
 patiently ; " I'll be there in a minute." 
 
 But Alfred had apparently made up his mind 
 that he was not a success as a nurse. 
 
 " You'd better take him now, Aggie," he de- 
 cided, as he offered the small person to the re- 
 luctant Aggie. "I'll stay here and talk to 
 Jimmy." 
 
 " Oh, but Jimmy was just going out," answered 
 Aggie; then she turned to her obdurate spouse 
 with mock sweetness, "Weren't you, dear?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," affirmed Zoie, with a threatening glance 
 toward Jimmy. " He was going, just now." 
 
 180
 
 Baby Mine 181 
 
 Still Jimmy remained rooted to the spot. 
 
 " Out? " questioned Alfred. " What for? " 
 
 " Just for a little air," explained Aggie 
 blandly. 
 
 " Yes," growled Jimmy, " another little heir." 
 
 "Air?" repeated Alfred in surprise. "He 
 had air a while ago with my son. He is going 
 to stay here and tell me the news. Sit down, 
 Jimmy," he commanded, and to the intense an- 
 noyance of Aggie and Zoie, Jimmy sank resignedly 
 on the couch. 
 
 Alfred was about to seat himself beside his 
 friend, when the 'phone rang violently. Being 
 nearest to the instrument, Alfred reached it first 
 and Zoie and Aggie awaited the consequences in 
 dread. What they heard did not reassure them 
 nor Jimmy. 
 
 " Still down there?" exclaimed Alfred into the 
 'phone. 
 
 Jimmy began to wriggle with a vague uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 " Well," continued Alfred at the 'phone, " that 
 woman has the wrong number." Then with a 
 peremptory " Wait a minute," he turned to Zoie, 
 " The hall boy says that woman who called a 
 while ago is still down stairs and she won't go 
 away until she has seen you, Zoie. She has some 
 kind of an idiotic idea that you know where her 
 baby is." 
 
 " How absurd," sneered Zoie.
 
 182 Baby Mine 
 
 " How silly," added Aggie. 
 
 " How foolish," grunted Jimmy. 
 
 " Well," decided Alfred, " I'd better go down 
 stairs and see what's the matter with her," and 
 he turned toward the door to carry out his in- 
 tention. 
 
 " Alfred ! " called Zoie sharply. She was half 
 out of bed in her anxiety. " You'll do no such 
 thing. 'Phone down to the boy to send her away. 
 She's crazy." 
 
 " Oh," said Alfred, " then she's been here be- 
 fore? Who is she? " 
 
 "Who is she?" answered Zoie, trying to gain 
 time for a new inspiration. " Why, she's 
 
 she's " her face lit up with satisfaction the 
 
 idea had arrived. " She's the nurse," she con- 
 cluded emphatically. 
 
 " The nurse? " repeated Alfred, a bit confused. 
 
 " Yes," answered Zoie, pretending to be an- 
 noyed with his dull memory. " She's the one I 
 told you about, the one I had to discharge." 
 
 " Oh," said Alfred, with the relief of sudden 
 comprehension; "the crazy one?" 
 
 Aggie and Zoie nodded their heads and smiled 
 at him tolerantly, then Zoie continued to elab- 
 orate. " You see," she said, " the poor creature 
 was so insane about little Jimmy that I couldn't 
 go near the child." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Alfred in a mighty rage. 
 " I'll soon tell the boy what to do with her," he
 
 Baby Mine 183 
 
 declared, and he rushed to the 'phone. Barely 
 had Alfred taken the receiver from the hook when 
 the outer door was heard to bang. Before he 
 could speak a distracted young woman, whose ex- 
 citable manner bespoke her foreign origin, swept 
 through the door without seeing him and hurled 
 herself at the unsuspecting Zoie. The woman's 
 black hair was dishevelled, and her large shawl had 
 fallen from her shoulders. To Jimmy, who was 
 crouching behind an armchair, she seemed a 
 giantess. 
 
 " My baby ! " cried the frenzied mother, with 
 what was unmistakably an Italian accent. 
 "Where is he?" There was no answer; her 
 eyes sought the cradle. " Ah ! " she shrieked, 
 then upon finding the cradle empty, she re- 
 redoubled her lamentations and again she bore 
 down upon the terrified Zoie. 
 
 " You," she cried, " you know where my baby 
 is!" 
 
 For answer, Zoie sank back amongst her pil- 
 lows and drew the bed covers completely over her 
 head. Alfred approached the bed to protect his 
 young wife ; the Italian woman wheeled about and 
 perceived a small child in his arms. She threw 
 herself upon him. 
 
 " I knew it," she cried ; " I knew it ! " 
 
 Managing to disengage himself from what he 
 considered a mad woman, and elevating one elbow 
 between her and the child, Alfred prevented the
 
 184 Baby Mine 
 
 mother from snatching the small creature from 
 his arms. 
 
 " Calm yourself, madam," he commanded with 
 a superior air. " We are very sorry for you, of 
 course, but we can't have you coming here and 
 going on like this. He's our baby and " 
 
 " He's not your baby ! " cried the infuriated 
 mother; "he's my baby. Give him to me. Give 
 him to me," and with that she sprang upon the 
 uncomfortable Alfred like a tigress. Throwing 
 her whole weight on his uplifted elbow, she man- 
 aged to pull down his arm until she could look 
 into the face of the washerwoman's promising 
 young offspring. The air was rent by a scream 
 that made each individual hair of Jimmy's head 
 stand up in its own defence. He could feel a 
 tickly sensation at the top of his short thick neck. 
 
 " He's not my baby," wailed the now demented 
 mother, little dreaming that the infant for which 
 she was searching was now reposing comfortably 
 on a soft pillow in the adjoining room. 
 
 As for Alfred, all of this was merely confirma- 
 tion of Zoie's statement that this poor soul was 
 crazy, and he was tempted to dismiss her with 
 worthy forbearance. 
 
 " I am glad, madam," he said, " that you are 
 coming to your senses." 
 
 Now, all would have gone well and the bewil- 
 dered mother would no doubt have left the room 
 convinced of her mistake, had not Jimmy's nerves
 
 Baby Mine 185 
 
 got the better of his judgment. Having slipped 
 cautiously from his position behind the armchair 
 he was tiptoeing toward the door, and was flat- 
 tering himself on his escape, when suddenly, as his 
 forward foot cautiously touched the threshold, he 
 heard the cry of the captor in his wake, and be- 
 fore he could possibly command the action of his 
 other foot, he felt himself being forcibly drawn 
 backward by what appeared to be his too 
 tenacious coat-tails. 
 
 " If only they would tear," thought Jimmy, 
 but thanks to the excellence of the tailor that 
 Aggie had selected for him, they did not " tear." 
 
 Not until she had anchored Jimmy safely to 
 the centre of the rug did the irate mother pour 
 out the full venom of her resentment toward him. 
 From the mixture of English and Italian that 
 followed, it was apparent that she was accusing 
 Jimmy of having stolen her bab} r . 
 
 " Take me to him," she demanded tragically ; 
 " my baby take me to him ! " 
 
 Jimmy appealed to Aggie and Zoie. Their 
 faces were as blank as his own. He glanced at 
 Alfred. 
 
 " Humour her," whispered Alfred, much elated 
 by the evidence of his own self-control as com- 
 pared to Jimmy's utter demoralisation under the 
 apparently same circumstances. 
 
 Still Jimrn} 1 " did not budge. 
 
 Alfred was becoming vexed; he pointed first to
 
 186 Baby Mine 
 
 his own forehead, then to that of Jimmy's hyster- 
 ical captor. He even illustrated his meaning by 
 making a rotary motion with his forefinger, in- 
 tended to remind Jimmy that the woman was a 
 lunatic. 
 
 Still Jimmy only stared at him and all the while 
 the woman was becoming more and more emphatic 
 in her declaration that Jimmy knew where her 
 baby was. 
 
 " Sure, Jimmy," said Alfred, out of all patience 
 with Jimmy's stupidity and tiring of the strain 
 of the woman's presence. " You know where her 
 baby is." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the mother, and she towered 
 over Jimmy with a wild light in her eyes. " Take 
 me to him," she demanded ; " take me to him." 
 
 Jimmy rolled his large eyes first toward Aggie, 
 then toward Zoie and at last toward Alfred. 
 There was no mercy to be found anywhere. 
 
 " Take her to him. Jimmy," commanded a con- 
 cert of voices ; and pursued by a bundle of waving 
 colours and a medley of discordant sounds, 
 Jimmy shot from the room,,
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE departure of Jimmy and the crazed mother 
 was the occasion for a general relaxing among 
 the remaining occupants of the room. Ex- 
 hausted 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 en- 
 counter. 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 ba- 
 
 187
 
 188 Baby Mine 
 
 bykins," 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." 
 
 Glad of an excuse to escape to the next room 
 and recover her self control, Aggie quickly dis- 
 appeared with the child. 
 
 For some moments Alfred continued to pace up 
 and down the room; then he came to a full stop 
 before Zoie. 
 
 " I'll have to have something done to that 
 woman," he declared emphatically. 
 
 " Jimmy will do enough to her," sighed Zoie, 
 weakly. 
 
 " She's no business to be at large," continued 
 Alfred; then, with a business-like air, he started 
 toward the telephone. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Zoie. 
 
 Alfred did not answer. He was now calling 
 into the 'phone, " Give me information." 
 
 "What on earth are you doing?" demanded 
 Zoie, more and more disturbed by his mysterious 
 manner. 
 
 " One can't be too careful," retorted Alfred in 
 his most paternal fashion ; " there's an awful lot 
 f kidnapping going on these days."
 
 Baby Mine 189 
 
 " Well, you don't suspect information, do 
 you? " asked Zoie. 
 
 Again Alfred ignored her; he was intent upon 
 things of more importance. 
 
 " Hello," he called into the 'phone, " is this in- 
 formation?" Apparently it was for he contin- 
 ued, with a satisfied air, " Well, give me the 
 Fullerton Street Police Station." 
 
 " The Police ? " cried Zoie, sitting up in bed 
 and looking about the room with a new sense of 
 alarm. 
 
 Alfred did not answer. 
 
 "Aggie !" shrieked the over-wrought young wife. 
 
 Alfred attempted to reassure her. " Now, 
 now, dear, don't get nervous," he said, " I am 
 only taking the necessary precautions." And 
 again he turned to the 'phone. 
 
 Alarmed by Zoie's summons, Aggie entered the 
 room hastily. She was not reassured upon hear- 
 ing Alfred's further conversation at the 'phone. 
 
 " Is this the Fullerton Street Police Station? " 
 asked Alfred. 
 
 " The Police ! " echoed Aggie, and her eyes 
 sought Zoie's inquiringly. 
 
 "Sh! Sh!" called Alfred over his shoulder 
 to the excited Aggie, then he continued into the 
 'phone. "Is Donneghey there?" There was a 
 pause. Alfred laughed j ovially. " It is ? Well, 
 hello, Donneghey, this is your old friend Hardy,
 
 190 Baby Mine 
 
 Alfred Hardy at the Sherwood. I've just got 
 back," then he broke the happy news to the no 
 doubt appreciative Donneghey. " What do you 
 think?" he said, "I'm a happy father." 
 
 Zoie puckered her small face in disgust. 
 
 Alfred continued to elucidate joyfully at the 
 'phone. 
 
 " Doubles," he said, " yes sure on the 
 level." 
 
 " I don't know why you have to tell the whole 
 neighbourhood," snapped Zoie. Her colour was 
 visibly rising. 
 
 But Alfred was now in the full glow of his 
 genial account to his friend. " Set 'em up? " he 
 repeated in answer to an evident suggestion from 
 the other end of the line, " I should say I would. 
 The drinks are on me. Tell the boys I'll be 
 right over. And say, Donneghey," he added, in 
 a more confidential tone, " I want to bring one 
 of the men home with me. I want him to keep 
 an eye on the house to-night " ; then after a 
 pause, he concluded confidentially, " I'll tell you 
 all about it when I get there. It looks like a 
 kidnapping scheme to me," and with that he hung 
 up the receiver, unmistakably pleased with him- 
 self, and turned his beaming face toward Zoie. 
 " It's all right, dear," he said, rubbing his hands 
 together with evident satisfaction, " Donneghey 
 is going to let us have a Special Officer to watch 
 the house to-night."
 
 Baby Mine 191 
 
 " I won't have a special officer," declared Zoie 
 vehemently; then becoming aware of Alfred's 
 great surprise, she explained half-tearfully, " I'm 
 not going to have the police hanging around our 
 very door. I would feel as though I were in 
 prison." 
 
 " You are in prison, my dear," returned the 
 now irrepressible Alfred. " A prison of love 
 you and our precious boys." He stooped and 
 implanted a gracious kiss on her forehead, then 
 turned toward the table for his hat. " Now," 
 he said, "I'll just run around the corner, set up 
 the drinks for the boys, and bring the officer 
 home with me," and drawing himself up proudly, 
 he cried gaily in parting, " I'll bet there's not 
 another man in Chicago who has what I have to- 
 night." 
 
 " I hope not," groaned Zoie. as the door closed 
 behind him. Then, thrusting her two small feet 
 from beneath the coverlet and perching on the 
 side of the bed, she declared to Aggie that "Al- 
 fred was getting more idiotic every minute." 
 
 " He's worse than idiotic," corrected Aggie. 
 " He's getting dangerous. If he gets the police 
 around here before we give that baby back, they'll 
 get the mother. She'll tell all she knows and that 
 will be the end of Jimmy ! " 
 
 "End of Jimmy?" exclaimed Zoie, "it'll be 
 the end of all of us." 
 
 " I can see our pictures in the papers, right
 
 192 Baby Mine 
 
 now," groaned Aggie. " Jimmy will be the vil- 
 lain." 
 
 " Jimmy is a villain," declared Zoie. " Where 
 is he? Why doesn't he come back? How am I 
 ever going to get that other twin? " 
 
 " There is only one thing to do," decided Ag- 
 gie, " I must go for it myself." And she snatched 
 up her cape from the couch and started toward 
 the door. 
 
 "You?" cried Zoie, in alarm, "and leave me 
 alone?" 
 
 " It's our only chance," argued Aggie. " I'll 
 have to do it now, before Alfred gets back." 
 
 " But Aggie," protested Zoie, clinging to her 
 departing friend, " suppose that crazy mother 
 should come back ? " 
 
 " Nonsense," replied Aggie, and before Zoie 
 could actually realise what was happening the 
 bang of the outside door told her that she was 
 alone.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 WONDERING what new terrors awaited her, Zoie 
 glanced uncertainly from door to door. So 
 strong had become her habit of talcing refuge in 
 the bed, that unconsciously she backed toward it 
 now. Barely had she reached the centre of the 
 room when a terrific crash of breaking glass 
 from the adjoining room sent her shrieking in 
 terror over the footboard, and head first under 
 the covers. Here she would doubtless have re- 
 mained until suffocated, had not Jimmy in his 
 backward flight from one of the inner rooms 
 overturned a large rocker. This additional 
 shock to Zoie's overstrung nerves forced a wild 
 scream from her lips, and an answering exclama- 
 tion from the nerve-racked Jimmy made her sit 
 bolt upright. She gazed at him in astonishment. 
 His tie was awry, one end of his collar had taken 
 leave of its anchorage beneath his stout chin, and 
 was now just tickling the edge of his red, perspir- 
 ing brow. His hair was on end and his feelings 
 were undeniably ruffled. As usual Zoie's greet- 
 ing did not tend to conciliate him. 
 
 " How did you get here? " she asked with an 
 air of reproach. 
 
 " The fire-escape," panted Jimmy and he nod- 
 
 193
 
 194 Baby Mine 
 
 ded mysteriously toward the inner rooms of the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Fire-escape ? " echoed Zoie. There was only 
 one and that led through the bathroom window. 
 
 Jimmy explained no further. He was now 
 peeping cautiously out of the window toward the 
 pavement below. 
 
 "Where's the mother?" demanded Zoie. 
 
 Jimmy jerked his thumb in the direction of 
 the street. Zoie gazed at him with grave ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 " Jimmy ! " she exclaimed. " You haven't 
 killed her? " 
 
 Jimmy shook his head and continued to peer 
 cautiously out of the window. 
 
 " What did you do with her? " called the now 
 exasperated Zoie. 
 
 " What did / do with her? " repeated Jimmy, a 
 flash of his old resentment returning. " What 
 did she do with me? " 
 
 For the first time, Zoie became fully conscious 
 of Jimmy's ludicrous appearance. Her over- 
 strained nerves gave way and she began to laugh 
 hysterically. 
 
 " Say," shouted Jimmy, towering over the bed 
 and devoutly wishing that she were his wife so 
 that he might strike her with impunity. " Don't 
 you sic any more lunatics onto me." 
 
 It is doubtful whether Zoie's continued laugh- 
 ter might not have provoked Jimmy to desperate
 
 Baby Mine 195 
 
 measures, had not the 'phone at that moment di- 
 rected their thoughts toward worse possibilities. 
 After the instrument had continued to ring per- 
 sistently for what seemed to Zoie an age, she 
 motioned to Jimmy to answer it. He responded 
 by retreating to the other side of the room. 
 
 " It may be Aggie," suggested Zoie. 
 
 For the first time, Jimmy became aware that 
 Aggie was nowhere in the apartment. 
 
 "Good Lord!" he exclaimed, as he realised 
 that he was again tete-a-tete with the terror of 
 his dreams. " Where is Aggie? " 
 
 " Gone to do what you should have done," was 
 Zoie's characteristic answer. 
 
 " Well," answered Jimmy hotly, " it's about 
 time that somebody besides me did something 
 around this place." 
 
 " You? " mocked Zoie, " all you've ever done 
 was to hoodoo me from the very beginning." 
 
 " If you'd taken my advice," answered Jimmy, 
 " and told your husband the truth about the 
 luncheon, there'd never have been any * begin- 
 ning.'" 
 
 61 If, if, if," cried Zoie, in an agony of impa- 
 tience, " if you'd tipped that horrid old waiter 
 enough, he'd never have told anyway." 
 
 " I'm not buying waiters to cover up your 
 crimes," announced Jimmy with his most self- 
 righteous air. 
 
 " You'll be buying more than that to cover up
 
 196 Baby Mine 
 
 your own crimes before you've finished," retorted 
 Zoie. 
 
 " Before I've finished with you, yes," agreed 
 Jimmy. He wheeled upon her with increasing re- 
 sentment. " Do you know where I expect to end 
 up ? " he asked. 
 
 " I know where you ought to end up," snapped 
 Zoie. 
 
 " I'll finish in the electric chair," said 
 Jimmy. *' I can feel blue lightning chasing up and 
 down my spine right now." 
 
 " Well, I wish you had finished in the electric 
 chair," declared Zoie, " before you ever dragged 
 me into that awful old restaurant." 
 
 " Oh, you do, do you? " answered Jimmy shak- 
 ing his fist at her across the foot of the bed. 
 For the want of adequate words to express his 
 further feelings, Jimmy was beginning to jibber, 
 when the outer door was heard to close, and he 
 turned to behold Aggie entering hurriedly 
 with something partly concealed by her long 
 cape. 
 
 " It's all right," explained Aggie triumphantly 
 to Zoie. " I've got it." She threw her cape 
 aside and disclosed the fruits of her conquest. 
 
 " So," snorted Jimmy in disgust, slightly 
 miffed by the apparent ease with which Aggie 
 had accomplished a task about which he had made 
 so much adoo, " you've gone into the business too, 
 have you ? "
 
 Baby Mine 197 
 
 Aggie deigned no reply to him. She continued 
 in a businesslike tone to Zoie. 
 
 "Where's Alfred?" she asked. 
 
 " Still out," answered Zoie. 
 
 " Thank Heaven," sighed Aggie, then she 
 turned to Jimmy and addressed him in rapid, de- 
 cided tones. " Now, dear," she said, " I'll just put 
 the new baby to bed, then I'll give you the other 
 one and you can take it right down to the 
 mother." 
 
 Jimmy made a vain start in the direction of the 
 fire-escape. Four detaining hands were laid 
 upon him. 
 
 " Don't try anything like that," warned Ag- 
 gie ; " you can't get out of this house without that 
 baby. The mother is down stairs now. She's 
 guarding the door. I saw her." And Aggie 
 sailed triumphantly out of the room to make the 
 proposed exchange of babies. 
 
 Before Jimmy was able to suggest to himself 
 an escape from Aggie's last plan of action, 
 the telephone again began to cry for atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Neither Jimmy nor Zoie could summon cour- 
 age to approach the impatient instrument, and 
 as usual Zoie cried frantically for Aggie. 
 
 Aggie was not long in returning to the room 
 and this time she bore in her arms the infant so 
 strenuously demanded by its mad mother. 
 
 " Here you are, Jimmy," she said ; " here's the
 
 198 Baby Mine 
 
 other one. Now take him down stairs quickly be- 
 fore Alfred gets back." She attempted to place 
 the unresisting babe in Jimmy's chubby arms, but 
 Jimmy's freedom was not to be so easily disposed 
 of. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, backing away from 
 the small creature in fear and abhorrence, " take 
 that bundle of rags down to the hotel office and 
 have that woman hystericing all over me. No, 
 thanks." 
 
 " Oh well," answered Aggie, distracted by the 
 persistent ringing of the 'phone, " then hold him 
 & minute until I answer the 'phone." 
 
 This at least was a compromise, and reluc- 
 tantly Jimmy allowed the now wailing infant to 
 be placed in his arms. 
 
 " Jig it, Jimmy, jig it," cried Zoie. Jimmy 
 looked down helplessly at the baby's angry red 
 face; but before he had made much headway with 
 the "jigging?" Aggie returned to them, much ex- 
 cited by the message which she had just received 
 over the telephone. 
 
 " That mother is making a scene down stairs in 
 the office," she said. 
 
 " You hear," chided Zoie, in a fury at Jimmy, 
 "what did Aggie tell you?" 
 
 " If she wants this thing," maintained Jimmy, 
 looking down at the bundle in his arms, " she can 
 ome after it." 
 
 " We can't have her up here," objected Aggie.
 
 Baby Mine 199 
 
 " Alfred may be back at any minute. He'd catch 
 her. You know what happened the last time 
 we tried to change them." 
 
 " You can send it down the chimney, for all I 
 care," concluded Jimmy. 
 
 " I have it ! " exclaimed Aggie, her face sud- 
 denly illumined. 
 
 " Oh Lord," groaned Jimmy, who had come to 
 regard any elation on Zoie's or Aggie's part as a 
 sure forewarner of ultimate discomfort for 
 him. 
 
 Again Aggie had recourse to the 'phone. 
 
 " Hello," she called to the office boy, " tell that 
 woman to go around to the back door, and we'll 
 send something down to her." There was a slight 
 pause, then Aggie added sweetly, " Yes, tell her 
 to wait at the foot of the fire-escape." 
 
 Zoie had already caught the drift of Aggie's 
 intention and she now fixed her glittering eyes 
 upon Jimmy, who was already shifting about un- 
 easily and glancing at Aggie, who approached 
 him with a business-like air. 
 
 " Now, dear," said Aggie, " come with me. I'll 
 hand Baby out through the bathroom window 
 and you can run right down the fire-escape with 
 him." 
 
 " If I do run down the fire-escape," exclaimed 
 Jimmy, wagging his large head from side to side, 
 " I'll keep right on running. That's the last 
 you'll ever see of me."
 
 200 Baby Mine 
 
 " But, Jimmy," protested Aggie, slightly hurt 
 by his threat, " once that woman gets her baby 
 you'll have no more trouble." 
 
 "With 3 r ou two still alive?" asked Jimmy, 
 looking from one to the other. 
 
 " She'll be up here if you don't hurry," urged 
 Aggie impatiently, and with that she pulled 
 Jimm}' toward the bedroom door. 
 
 " Let her come," said Jimmy, planting his feet 
 so as to resist Aggie's repeated tugs, " I'm 
 going to South America." 
 
 " Why will you act like this," cried Aggie, in 
 utter desperation, " when we have so little 
 time?" 
 
 " Say," said Jimmy irrelevantly, " do you 
 know that I haven't had any " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Aggie and Zoie in chorus, 
 " we know." 
 
 " How long," continued Zoie impatiently, " is 
 it going to take you to slip down that fire-es- 
 cape? " 
 
 " That depends on how fast I * slip,' " an- 
 swered Jimmy doggedly. 
 
 " You'll ' slip ' all right," sneered Zoie. 
 
 Further exchange of pleasantries between 
 these two antagonists was cut short by the bang- 
 ing of the outside door. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " exclaimed Aggie, glancing 
 nervously over her shoulder, " there's Alfred now.
 
 Baby Mine 201 
 
 Hurry, Jimmy, hurry," she cried, and with that 
 she fairly forced Jimmy out through the bed- 
 room door, and followed in his wake to see him 
 safely down the fire-escape.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ZOIE had barely time to arrange herself after 
 the manner of an interesting invalid, when Al- 
 fred entered the room in the gayest of spirits. 
 
 " Hello, dearie," he cried as he crossed quickly 
 to her side. 
 
 " Already ? " asked Zoie faintly and she glanced 
 uneasily toward the door, through which Jimmy 
 and Aggie had just disappeared. 
 
 " I told you I shouldn't be long," said Alfred 
 jovially, and he implanted a condescending kiss 
 on her forehead. " How is the little mother, 
 eh? " he asked, rubbing his hands together in sat- 
 isfaction. 
 
 " You're all cold," pouted Zoie, edging away, 
 *' and you've been drinking." 
 
 " I had to have one or two with the boys," said 
 Alfred, throwing out his chest and strutting 
 about the room, " but never again. From now 
 on I cut out all drinks and cigars. This is 
 where I begin to live my life for our sons." 
 
 "How about your life for me?" asked Zoie, 
 as she began to see long years of boredom stretch- 
 ing before her. 
 
 " You and our boys are one and the same, 
 dear," answered Alfred, coming back to her side. 
 202
 
 Baby Mine 203 
 
 " You mean you couldn't go on loving me if it 
 weren't for the boys? " asked Zoie, with anxiety. 
 She was beginning to realise how completely her 
 hold upon him depended upon her hideous decep- 
 tion. 
 
 " Of course I could, Zoie," answered Alfred, 
 flattered by what he considered her desire for his 
 complete devotion, " but " 
 
 " But not so much," pouted Zoie. 
 
 " Well, of course, dear," admitted Alfred 
 evasively, as he sank down upon the edge of the 
 bed by her side 
 
 " You needn't say another word," interrupted 
 Zoie, and then with a shade of genuine repent- 
 ance, she declared shame-facedly that she hadn't 
 been " much of a wife " to Alfred. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " contradicted the proud young 
 father, " you've given me the one thing that I 
 wanted most in the world." 
 
 " But you see, dear," said Zoie, as she wound 
 her little white arms about his neck, and looked 
 up into his face adoringly, " you've been the 
 * one ' thing that I wanted * most ' and I never 
 realised until to-night how how crazy you are 
 about things." 
 
 " What things ? " asked Alfred, a bit puz- 
 zled. 
 
 " Well," said Zoie, letting her eyes fall before 
 his and picking at a bit of imaginary lint on the 
 coverlet, " babies and things."
 
 204 Baby Mine 
 
 " Oh," said Alfred, and he was about to pro- 
 ceed when she again interrupted him. 
 
 " But now that I do realise it," continued 
 Zoie, earnestly, her fingers on his lips, lest he 
 again interrupt, " if you'll only have a little pa- 
 tience with me, 1*11 I'll " again her eyes fell 
 
 bashfully to the coverlet, as she considered the 
 possibility of being ultimately obliged to replace 
 the bogus twins with real ones. 
 
 " All the patience in the world," answered Al- 
 fred, little dreaming of the problem that con- 
 fronted the contrite Zoie. 
 
 " That's all I ask," declared Zoie, her assur- 
 ance completely restored, " and in case anything 
 should happen to these " she glanced anx- 
 iously toward the door through which Aggie had 
 borne the twins. 
 
 " But nothing is going to happen to these, 
 dear," interrupted Alfred, rising and again as- 
 suming an air of fatherly protection. " I'll at- 
 tend to that. There, there," he added, patting 
 her small shoulder and nodding his head wisely. 
 " That crazy woman has got on your nerves, but 
 you needn't worry, I've got everything fixed. 
 Donneghey sent a special officer over with me. 
 He's outside watching the house, now." 
 
 " Now ! " shrieked Zoie, fixing her eyes on the 
 bedroom door, through which Jimmy had lately 
 disappeared and wondering whether he had yet 
 " slipped " down the fire-escape.
 
 Baby Mine 205 
 
 '* Yes," continued Alfred, walking up and down 
 the floor with a masterly stride. " If that woman 
 is caught hanging around here again, she'll get a 
 little surprise. My boys are safe now, God bless 
 them ! " Then reminded of the fact that he had not 
 seen them since his return, he started quickly to- 
 ward the bedroom door. " I'll just have a look at 
 the little rascals," he decided. 
 
 " No, dear," cried Zoie. She caught Al- 
 fred's arm as he passed the side of her bed, 
 and clung to him in desperation. " Wait a 
 minute." 
 
 Alfred looked down at her in surprise. 
 
 She turned her face toward the door, and 
 called lustily, " Aggie ! Aggie ! " 
 
 "What is it, dear?" questioned Alfred, think- 
 ing Zoie suddenly ill, " can I get you some- 
 thing? " 
 
 Before Zoie was obliged to reply, Aggie an- 
 swered her summons. 
 
 " Did you call ? " she asked, glancing inquir- 
 ingly into Zoie's distressed face. 
 
 " Alfred's here," said Zoie, with a sickly smile 
 as she stroked his hand and glanced meaningly 
 at Aggie. " He's got the officer! " 
 
 " The officer? " cried Aggie, and involuntarily 
 she took a step backward, as though to guard 
 the bedroom door. 
 
 " Yes," said Alfred, mistaking Aggie's surprise 
 for a compliment to his resource; " and now, Ag-
 
 206 Baby Mine 
 
 gie, if you'll just stay with Zoie for a minute I'll 
 have a look at my boys." 
 
 " No, no ! " exclaimed Aggie, nervously, and 
 she placed herself again in front of the bedroom 
 door. 
 
 Alfred was plainly annoyed by her proprietory 
 air. 
 
 " They're asleep," explained Aggie. 
 
 " I'll not -wake them," persisted Alfred, " I just 
 wish to have a look at them," and with that he 
 again made a move toward the door. 
 
 " But Alfred," protested Zoie, still clinging to 
 his hand, " you're not going to leave me again 
 so soon." 
 
 Alfred was becoming more and more restive 
 under the seeming absurdity of their persistent 
 opposition, but before he could think of a polite 
 way of over-ruling them, Aggie continued per- 
 suasively. 
 
 " You stay with Zoie," she said. " I'll bring 
 the boys in here and you can both have a look at 
 them." 
 
 " But Aggie," argued Alfred, puzzled by her 
 illogical behaviour, " would it be wise to wake 
 them?" 
 
 " Just this once," said Aggie. " Now you stay 
 here and I'll get them." Before Alfred could 
 protest further she was out of the room and the 
 door had closed behind her, so he resigned him- 
 self to her decision, banished his temporary an-
 
 Baby Mine 207 
 
 noyance at her obstinacy, and glanced about the 
 room with a new air of proprietorship. 
 
 " This is certainly a great night, Zoie," he 
 said. 
 
 " It certainly is," acquiesced Zoie, with an 
 over emphasis that made Alfred turn to her with 
 new concern. 
 
 " I'm afraid that mad woman made you very 
 nervous, dear," he said. 
 
 " She certainly did," said Zoie. 
 
 Zoie's nerves were destined to bear still further 
 strain, for at that moment, there came a sharp 
 ring at the door. 
 
 Beside herself with anxiety Zoie threw her arms 
 about Alfred, who had advanced to soothe her, 
 drew him down by her side and buried her head 
 on his breast. 
 
 "You are jumpy," said Alfred, and at that 
 instant a wrangle of loud voices, and a general 
 commotion was heard in the outer hall. " What's 
 that ? " asked Alfred, endeavouring to disentangle 
 himself from Zoie's frantic embrace. 
 
 Zoie clung to him so tightly that he was un- 
 able to rise, but his alert ear caught the sound 
 of a familiar voice rising above the din of dispute 
 in the hallway. 
 
 " That sounds like the officer," he exclaimed. 
 
 " The officer ? " cried Zoie, and she wound her 
 arms more tightly about him.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 PROPELLED by a large red fist, attached to the 
 back of his badly wilted collar, the writhing form 
 of Jimmy was now thrust through the outer door. 
 
 " Let go of me," shouted the hapless Jimmy. 
 
 The answer was a spasmodic shaking adminis- 
 tered by the fist; then a large burly officer, 
 carrying a small babe in his arms, shoved the re- 
 luctant Jimmy into the centre of the room and 
 stood guard over him. 
 
 " I got him for you, sir," announced the officer 
 proudly, to the astonished Alfred, who had just 
 managed to untwine Zoie's arms and to struggle 
 to his feet. 
 
 Alfred's eyes fell first upon the dejected 
 Jimmy, then they travelled to the bundle of long 
 clothes in the officer's arms. 
 
 "My boy!" he cried. "My boy!" He 
 snatched the infant from the officer and pressed 
 him jealously to his breast. " I don't under- 
 stand," he said, gazing at the officer in stupefac- 
 tion. " Where was he? " 
 
 "You mean this one?" asked the officer, nod- 
 ding toward the unfortunate Jimmy. " I caught 
 him slipping down your fire-escape." 
 
 " I knew it," exclaimed Zoie in a rage, and she 
 208
 
 Baby Mine 209 
 
 cast a vindictive look at Jimmy for his awkward- 
 ness. 
 
 " Knew what, dear? " asked Alfred, now thor- 
 oughly puzzled. 
 
 Zoie did not answer. Her powers of resource 
 were fast waning. Alfred turned again to the 
 officer, then to Jimmy, who was still flashing de- 
 fiance into the officer's threatening eyes. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed, " this is awful. 
 What's the matter with you, Jimmy? This is the 
 third time that you have tried to take my baby 
 out into the night." 
 
 "Then you've had trouble with him before?" 
 remarked the officer. He studied Jimmy with new 
 interest, proud in the belief that he had brought 
 a confirmed " baby-snatcher " to justice. 
 
 " I've had a little trouble myself," declared 
 Jimmy hotly, now resolved to make a clean breast 
 of it. 
 
 " I'm not asking about your troubles," inter- 
 rupted the officer savagely, and Jimmy felt the 
 huge creature's obnoxious fingers tightening 
 again on his collar. " Go ahead, sir," said the 
 officer to Alfred. 
 
 " Well," began Alfred, nodding toward the now 
 livid Jimmy, " he was out with my boy when I ar- 
 rived. I stopped him from going out with him a 
 second time, and now you, officer, catch him slip- 
 ping down the fire-escape. I don't know what to 
 say," he finished weakly.
 
 210 Baby Mine 
 
 " 7 do," exclaimed Jimmy, feeling more and 
 more like a high explosive, " and I'll say it." 
 
 " Cut it, n shouted the officer. And before 
 Jimmy could get further, Alfred resumed with 
 fresh vehemence. 
 
 " He's supposed to be a friend of mine," he 
 explained to the officer, as he nodded toward the 
 wriggling Jimmy. " He was all right when I left 
 him a few months ago." 
 
 " You'll think I'm all right again," shouted 
 Jimmy, trying to get free from the officer, " be- 
 fore I've finished telling all I " 
 
 " That won't help any," interrupted the offi- 
 cer firmly, and with another twist of Jimmy's 
 badly wilted collar he turned to Alfred with his 
 most civil manner, " What shall I do with him, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Alfred, convinced that 
 his friend was a fit subject for a straight jacket. 
 " This is horrible." 
 
 " It's absurd," cried Zoie, on the verge of hys- 
 terics, and in utter despair of ever disentangling 
 the present complication without ultimately los- 
 ing Alfred, " you're all absurd," she cried wildly. 
 
 "Absurd?" exclaimed Alfred, turning upon 
 her in amazement, "what do you mean?" 
 
 " It's a joke," said Zoie, without the slightest 
 idea of where the joke lay. "If you had any 
 sense you could see it." 
 
 " I don't see it," said Alfred, with hurt dignity.
 
 Baby Mine 211 
 
 " Neither do I," said Jimmy, with boiling re- 
 sentment. 
 
 " Can you call it a joke," asked Alfred, in- 
 credulously, " to have our boy " He stopped 
 
 suddenly, remembering that there was a compan- 
 ion piece to this youngster. " The other one ! " 
 
 he exclaimed, " our other boy " He rushed 
 
 to the crib, found it empty, and turned a terrified 
 face to Zoie. " Where is he? " he demanded. 
 
 " Now, Alfred," pleaded Zoie, " don't get ex- 
 cited; he's all right." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked the distracted 
 father. 
 
 Zoie did not know, but at that moment her 
 eyes fell upon Jimmy, and as usual he was the 
 source of an inspiration for her. 
 
 " Jimmy never cared for the other one," she 
 said, " did you, Jimmy? " 
 
 Alfred turned to the officer, with a tone of 
 command. " Wait," he said, then he started to- 
 ward the bedroom door to make sure that his 
 other boy was quite safe. The picture that con- 
 fronted him brought the hair straight up on his 
 head. True to her promise, and ignorant of 
 Jimmy's return with the first baby, Aggie had 
 chosen this ill-fated moment to appear on the 
 threshold with one babe on each arm. 
 
 " Here they are," she said graciously, then 
 stopped in amazement at sight of the horrified 
 Alfred, clasping a third infant to his breast.
 
 212 Baby Mine 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed Alfred, stroking his 
 forehead with his unoccupied hand, and gazing 
 at what he firmly believed must be an apparition, 
 " those aren't mine," he pointed to the two red 
 mites in Aggie's arms. 
 
 " Wh why not, Alfred?" stammered Aggie 
 for the want of something better to say. 
 
 "What?" shrieked Alfred. Then he turned 
 in appeal to his young wife, whose face had now 
 become utterly expressionless. "Zoie?" he 
 entreated. 
 
 There was an instant's pause, then the blood 
 returned to Zoie's face and she proved herself 
 the artist that Alfred had once declared her. 
 
 " Ours, dear," she murmured softly, with a 
 bashful droop of her lids. 
 
 "But this one?" persisted Alfred, pointing to 
 the baby in his arms, and feeling sure that his 
 mind was about to give way. 
 
 " Why why why," stuttered Zoie, " that's 
 the joke." 
 
 " The joke? " echoed Alfred, looking as though 
 he found it anything but such. 
 
 " Yes," added Aggie, sharing Zoie's despera- 
 tion to get out of their temporary difficulty, no 
 matter at what cost in the future. " Didn't 
 Jimmy tell you? " 
 
 " Tell me what? " stammered Alfred, " what is 
 there to tell?" 
 
 " Why, you see," said Aggie, growing more
 
 Baby Mine 213 
 
 enthusiastic with each elaboration of Zoie's lie, 
 " we didn't dare to break it to you too suddenly." 
 
 " Break it to me? " gasped Alfred; a new light 
 was beginning to dawn on his face. 
 
 " So," concluded Zoie, now thoroughly at home 
 in the new situation, " we asked Jimmy to take 
 that one out." 
 
 Jimmy cast an inscrutable glance in Zoie's di- 
 rection. Was it possible that she was at last 
 assisting him out of a difficulty? 
 
 " You ' asked Jimmy ' ? " repeated Alfred. 
 
 " Yes," confirmed Aggie, with easy confidence, 
 " we wanted you to get used to the idea gradu- 
 ally." 
 
 " The idea," echoed Alfred. He was afraid to 
 allow his mind to accept too suddenly the whole 
 significance of their disclosure, lest his joy over- 
 power him. " You you do don't mean " 
 
 he stuttered. 
 
 " Yes, dear," sighed Zoie, with the face of an 
 angel, and then with a languid sigh, she sank back 
 contentedly on her pillows. 
 
 " My boys ! My boys ! " cried Alfred, now de- 
 lirious with delight. " Give them to me," he called 
 to Aggie, and he snatched the surprised infants 
 savagely from her arms. " Give me all of them, 
 all of them." He clasped the three babes to his 
 breast, then dashed to the bedside of the unsus- 
 pecting Zoie and covered her small face with rap- 
 turous kisses.
 
 214 Baby Mine 
 
 Feeling the red faces of the little strangers in 
 such close proximity to hers, Zoie drew away from 
 them with abhorrence, but unconscious of her 
 unmotherly action, Alfred continued his mad 
 career about the room, his heart overflowing with 
 gratitude toward Zoie in particular and mankind 
 in general. Finding Aggie in the path of his 
 wild jubilee, he treated that bewildered young 
 matron to an unwelcome kiss. A proceeding 
 which Jimmy did not at all approve. 
 
 Hardly had Aggie recovered from her surprise 
 when the disgruntled Jimmy was startled out of 
 his dark mood by the supreme insult of a loud re- 
 sounding kiss implanted on his own cheek by his 
 excitable young friend. Jimmy raised his arm 
 to resist a second assault, and Alfred veered off 
 in the direction of the officer, who stepped aside 
 just in time to avoid similar demonstration from 
 the indiscriminating young father. 
 
 Finding a wide circle prescribed about himself 
 and the babies, Alfred suddenly stopped and 
 gazed about from one astonished face to the 
 other. 
 
 " Well," said the officer, regarding Alfred with 
 an injured air, and feeling much downcast at be- 
 ing so ignominiously deprived of his short-lived 
 heroism in capturing a supposed criminal, " if 
 this is all a joke, I'll let the woman go." 
 
 " The woman," repeated Alfred ; " what 
 woman? "
 
 Baby Mine 215 
 
 " I nabbed a woman at the foot of the fire-es- 
 cape," explained the officer. Zoie and Aggie 
 glanced at each other inquiringly. " I thought 
 she might be an accomplice." 
 
 "What does she look like, officer?" asked Al- 
 fred. His manner was becoming more paternal, 
 not to say condescending, with the arrival of each 
 new infant. 
 
 " Don't be silly, Alfred," snapped Zoie, really 
 ashamed that Alfred was making such an idiot 
 of himself. " It's only the nurse." 
 
 " Oh, that's it," said Alfred, with a wise nod of 
 comprehension; " the nurse, then she's in the joke 
 too? " He glanced from one to the other. 
 They all nodded. "You're all in it," he ex- 
 claimed, flattered to think that they had con- 
 sidered it necessary to combine the efforts of so 
 many of them to deceive him. 
 
 " Yes," assented Jimmy sadly, " we are all ' in 
 it.' " 
 
 " Well, she's a great actress," decided Alfred, 
 with the air of a connoisseur. 
 
 " She sure is," admitted Donneghey, more and 
 more disgruntled as he felt his reputation for 
 detecting fraud slipping from him. " She put 
 up a phoney story about the kid being hers," he 
 added. " But I could tell she wasn't on the level. 
 Good-night, sir," he called to Alfred, and ignor- 
 ing Jimmy, he passed quickly from the room. 
 
 " Oh, officer," Alfred called after him. " Hang
 
 216 Baby Mine 
 
 around downstairs. I'll be down later and fix 
 things up with you." Again Alfred gave his 
 whole attention to his new-found family. He 
 leaned over the cradle and gazed ecstatically into 
 the three small faces below his. " This is too 
 much," he murmured. 
 
 " Much too much," agreed Jimmy, who was now 
 sitting hunched up on the couch in his customary 
 attitude of gloom. 
 
 " You were right not to break it to me too sud- 
 denly," said Alfred, and with his arms encircling 
 three infants he settled himself on the couch by 
 Jimmy's side. " You're a cute one," he con- 
 tinued to Jimmy, who was edging away from the 
 three mites with aversion. In the absence of any 
 answer from Jimmy, Alfred appealed to Zoie, 
 " Isn't he a cute one, dear? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very" answered Zoie, sarcastically. 
 
 Shutting his lips tight and glancing at Zoie 
 with a determined effort at self restraint, Jimmy 
 rose from the couch and started toward the door. 
 
 " If you women are done with me," he said, 
 " I'll clear out." 
 
 " Clear out? " exclaimed Alfred, rising quickly 
 and placing himself between his old friend and the 
 door. " What a chance," and he laughed boister- 
 ously. " You're not going to get out of my 
 sight this night," he declared. " I'm just begin- 
 ning to appreciate all you've done for me." 
 
 " So am I," assented Jimmy, and unconsciously
 
 Baby Mine 217 
 
 his hand sought the spot where his dinner should 
 have been, but Alfred was not to be resisted. 
 
 " A man needs someone around," he declared, 
 " when he's going through a thing like this. I 
 need all of you, all of you," and with his eyes 
 he embraced the weary circle of faces about him. 
 " I feel as though I could go out of my head," he 
 explained and with that he began tucking the 
 three small mites in the pink and white crib de- 
 signed for but one. 
 
 Zoie regarded him with a bored expression. 
 
 " You act as though you were out of your 
 head," she commented, but Alfred did not heed 
 her. He was now engaged in the unhoped for 
 bliss of singing three babies to sleep with one 
 lullaby. 
 
 The other occupants of the room were just be- 
 ginning to relax and to show some resemblance to 
 their natural selves, when their features were 
 again simultaneously frozen by a ring at the out- 
 side door.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 ANNOYED at being interrupted in the midst of 
 his lullaby, to three, Alfred looked up to see Mag- 
 gie, hatless and out of breath, bursting into the 
 room, and destroying what was to him an ideally 
 tranquil home scene. But Maggie paid no heed 
 to Alfred's look of inquiry. She made directly 
 for the side of Zoie's bed. 
 
 " If you plaze, mum," she panted, looking down 
 at Zoie, and wringing her hands. 
 
 " What is it? " asked Aggie, who had now 
 reached the side of the bed. 
 
 " 'Scuse me for comin' right in " Maggie was 
 breathing hard " but me mother sint me to tell 
 you that me father is jus afther comin' home 
 from work, and he's fightin' mad about the ba- 
 bies, mum." 
 
 " Sh ! Sh ! " cautioned Aggie and Zoie, as 
 they glanced nervously toward Alfred who was 
 rising from his place beside the cradle with in- 
 creasing interest in Maggie's conversation. 
 
 "Babies?" he repeated, "your father is mad 
 about babies ? " 
 
 " It's all right, dear," interrupted Zoie nerv- 
 ously ; " you see," she went on to explain, point- 
 ing toward the trembling Maggie, " this is our 
 218
 
 Baby Mine 219 
 
 washerwoman's little girl. Our washerwoman has 
 had twins, too, and it made the wash late, and 
 her husband is angry about it." 
 
 " Oh," said Alfred, with a comprehensive nod, 
 but Maggie was not to be so easily disposed of. 
 
 " If you please, mum," she objected, " it ain't 
 about the wash. It's about our baby girls." 
 
 "Girls?" exclaimed Zoie involuntarily. 
 
 "Girls?" repeated Alfred, drawing himself up 
 in the fond conviction that all his heirs were boys, 
 " No wonder your pa's angry. I'd be angry too. 
 Come now," he said to Maggie, patting the child 
 on the shoulder ard regarding her indulgently, 
 " you go straight home and tell your father that 
 what he needs is boys." 
 
 " Well, of course, sir," answered the bewil- 
 dered Maggie, thinking that Alfred meant to 
 reflect upon the gender of the off-spring donated 
 by her parents, " if you ain't afther likin' girls, 
 me mother sint the money back," and with that 
 she began to feel for the pocket in her red flannel 
 petticoat. 
 
 "The money?" repeated Alfred, in a puzzled 
 way, " what money? " 
 
 It was again Zoie's time to think quickly. 
 
 " The money for 'the wash, dear," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " retorted Alfred, positively beam- 
 ing generosity, " who talks of money at such a 
 time as this ? " And taking a ten dollar bill from
 
 220 Baby Mine 
 
 his pocket, he thrust it in Maggie's outstretched 
 hand, while she was trying to return to him the 
 original purchase money. " Here," he said to 
 the astonished girl, " you take this to your father. 
 Tell him I sent it to him for his babies. Tell him 
 to start a bank account with it." 
 
 This was clearly not a case with which one 
 small addled mind could deal, or at least, so Mag- 
 gie decided. She had a hazy idea that Alfred 
 was adding something to the original purchase 
 price of her young sisters, but she was quite at a 
 loss to know how to refuse the offer of such a 
 " grand 'hoigh " gentleman, even though her fail- 
 ure to do so would no doubt result in a beating 
 when she reached home. She stared at Alfred 
 undecided what to do, the money still lay in her 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 " I'm afraid Pa'll niver loike it, sir," she said. 
 
 "Like it?" exclaimed Alfred in high feather, 
 and he himself closed her red little fingers over 
 the bill, " he's got to like it. He'll grow to like 
 it. Now you run along," he concluded to Mag- 
 gie, as he urged her toward the door, " and tell 
 him what I say." 
 
 " Yes, sir," murmured Maggie, far from shar- 
 ing Alfred's enthusiasm. 
 
 Feeling no desire to renew his acquaintance 
 with Maggie, particularly under Alfred's watch- 
 ful eye, Jimmy had sought his old refuge, the 
 high backed chair. As affairs progressed and
 
 Baby Mine 221 
 
 there seemed no doubt of Zoie's being able to 
 handle the situation to the satisfaction of all con- 
 cerned, Jimmy allowed exhaustion and the warmth 
 of the firelight to have their way with him. His 
 mind wandered toward other things and finally 
 into space. His head dropped lower and lower 
 on his chest; his breathing became laboured 
 so laboured in fact that it attracted the attention 
 of Maggie, who was about to pass him on her way 
 to the door. 
 
 " Sure an it's Mr. Jinks ! " exclaimed Maggie. 
 Then coming close to the side of the unsuspecting 
 sleeper, she hissed a startling message in his ear. 
 " Me mother said to tell you that me fadder's 
 hoppin' mad at you, sir." 
 
 Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He 
 studied the young person at his elbow, then 
 he glanced at Alfred, utterly befuddled as to 
 what had happened while he had been on a jour- 
 ney to happier scenes. Apparently Maggie was 
 waiting for an answer to something, but to what? 
 Jimmy thought he detected an ominous look in 
 Alfred's eyes. Letting his hand fall over the 
 arm of the chair so that Alfred could not see it, 
 Jimmy began to make frantic signals to Maggie 
 to depart; she stared at him the harder. 
 
 " Go away," whispered Jimmy, but Maggie did 
 not move. " Shoo, shoo ! " he said, and waved 
 her off with his hand. 
 
 Puzzled by Jimmy's sudden aversion to this ap-
 
 222 Baby Mine 
 
 parently harmless child, Alfred turned to Maggie 
 with a puckered brow. 
 
 "Your father's mad at Jimmy?" he repeated. 
 "What about?" 
 
 For once Jimmy found it in his heart to be 
 grateful to Zoie for the prompt answer that 
 came from her direction. 
 
 " The wash, dear," said Zoie to Alfred ; 
 " Jimmy had to go after the wash," and then 
 with a look which Maggie could not mistake for 
 an invitation to stop longer, Zoie called to her 
 haughtily, " You needn't wait, Maggie ; we under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Sure, an' it's more 'an I do," answered Mag- 
 gie, and shaking her head sadly, she slipped from 
 the room. 
 
 But Alfred could not immediately dismiss from 
 his mind the picture of Maggie's inhuman parent. 
 
 " Just fancy," he said, turning his head to 
 one side meditatively, " fancy any man not liking 
 to be the father of twins," and with tjiat he again 
 bent over the cradle and surveyed its contents. 
 " Think, Jimmy," he said, when he had managed 
 to get the three youngsters in his arms, "just 
 think of the way that father feels, and then think 
 of the way 7 feel." 
 
 " And then think of the way / feel," grumbled 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed Alfred ; " what have you to 
 feel about? "
 
 Baby Mine 223 
 
 Before Jimmy could answer, the air was rent 
 by a piercing scream and a crash of glass from 
 the direction of the inner rooms. 
 
 " What's that? " whispered Aggie, with an anx- 
 ious glance toward Zoie. 
 
 " Sounded like breaking glass," said Alfred. 
 
 " Burglars ! " exclaimed Zoie, for want of any- 
 thing better to suggest. 
 
 "Burglars?" repeated Alfred with a superior 
 air; "nonsense! Nonsense! Here," he said, 
 turning to Jimmy, " you hold the boys and I'll 
 
 go see " and before Jimmy was aware of the 
 
 honour about to be thrust upon him, he felt three 
 red, spineless morsels, wriggling about in his- 
 arms. He made what lap he could for the arm- 
 ful, and sat up in a stiff, strained attitude on the 
 edge of the couch. In the meantime, Alfred had 
 strode into the adjoining room with the air of a 
 conqueror. Aggie looked at Zoie, with dreadful 
 foreboding. 
 
 "You don't suppose it could be ? " she 
 
 paused. 
 
 " My baby ! " shrieked the voice of the Italian 
 mother from the adjoining room. "Where is 
 he?" 
 
 Regardless of the discomfort of his three dis- 
 gruntled charges, Jimmy began to circle the room. 
 So agitated was his mind that he could scarcely 
 hear Aggie, who was reporting proceedings from 
 her place at the bedroom door.
 
 224 Baby Mine 
 
 "She's come up the fire-escape," cried Aggie; 
 '* she's beating Alfred to death." 
 
 " What? " shrieked Zoie, making a flying leap 
 from her coverlets. 
 
 " She's locking him in the bathroom," declared 
 Aggie, and with that she disappeared from the 
 room, bent on rescue. 
 
 " My Alfred ! " cried Zoie, tragically, and she 
 started in pursuit of Aggie. 
 
 " Wait a minute," called Jimmy, who had not 
 yet been able to find a satisfactory place in which 
 to deposit his armful of clothes and humanity. 
 " What shall I do with these things? " 
 
 " Eat 'em," was Zoie's helpful retort, as the 
 trailing end of her negligee disappeared from the 
 room.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 Now, had Jimmy been less perturbed during 
 the latter part of this commotion, he might have 
 heard the bell of the outside door, which had been 
 ringing violently for some minutes. As it was, 
 he was wholly unprepared for the flying advent 
 of Maggie. 
 
 " Oh, plaze, sir," she cried, pointing with trem- 
 bling fingers toward the babes in Jimmy's arms, 
 " me fadder's coming right behind me. He's 
 a-lookin' for you sir." 
 
 " For me," murmured Jimmy, wondering 
 vaguely why everybody on earth seemed to be 
 looking for him. 
 
 " Put 'em down, sir," cried Maggie, still point- 
 ing to the three babies, " put 'em down. He's 
 liable to wallop you." 
 
 " Put 'em where ? " asked Jimmy, now utterly 
 confused as to which way to turn. 
 
 / 
 
 " There," said Maggie, and she pointed to the 
 cradle beneath his very eyes. 
 
 " Of course," said Jimmy vapidly, and he sank 
 on his knees and strove to let the wobbly crea- 
 tures down easily. 
 
 Bang went the outside door. 
 
 "That's Pa now," cried Maggie. "Oh hide, 
 225
 
 226 Baby Mine 
 
 sir, hide." And with that disconcerting warning, 
 she too deserted him. 
 
 " Hide where ? " gasped Jimmy. 
 
 There was a moment's awful silence. Jimmy 
 rose very cautiously from the cradle, his eyes 
 sought the armchair. It had always betrayed 
 him. He glanced toward the window. It was 
 twelve stories to the pavement. He looked to- 
 wards the opposite door; beyond that was the 
 mad Italian woman. His one chance lay in slip- 
 ping unnoticed through the hallway; he made a 
 determined dash in that direction, but no sooner 
 had he put his head through the door, than he 
 drew it back quickly. The conversation between 
 O'Flarety and the maid in the hallway was not re- 
 assuring. Jimmy decided to take a chance with 
 the Italian mother, and as fast as he could, he 
 streaked it toward the opposite door. The 
 shrieks and denunciations that he met from this 
 direction were more disconcerting than those of 
 the Irish father. For an instant he stood in the 
 centre of the room, wavering as to which side to 
 surrender himself. 
 
 The thunderous tones of the enraged father 
 drew nearer; he threw himself on the floor and at- 
 tempted to roll under the bed; the space between 
 the railing and the floor was far too narrow. 
 Why had he disregarded Aggie's advice as to 
 diet? The knob of the door handle was turn- 
 ing he vaulted into the bed and drew the covers
 
 Baby Mine 227 
 
 over his head just as O'Flarety, trembling with 
 excitement, and pursued by Maggie, burst into 
 the room. 
 
 " Lave go of me," cried O'Flarety to Maggie, 
 who clung to his arm in a vain effort to soothe 
 him, and flinging her off, he made straight for 
 the bed. 
 
 " Ah," he cried, gazing with dilated nostrils at 
 the trembling object beneath the covers, " there 
 you are, mum," and he shook his fist above what 
 he believed to be the cowardly Mrs. Hardy. 
 " 'Tis well ye may cover up your head," said 
 he, " for shame on yez ! Me wife may take in 
 washing, but when I comes home at night I 
 wants me kids, and I'll be after havin' 'em 
 too. Where ar' they? " he demanded. Then 
 getting no response from the agitated covers, he 
 glanced wildly about the room. " Glory be to 
 God!" he exclaimed as his eyes fell on the crib; 
 but he stopped short in astonishment, when upon 
 peering into it, he found not one, or two, but 
 three " barren." 
 
 " They're child stalers, that's what they are," 
 he declared to Maggie, as he snatched Bridget 
 and Norah to his no doubt comforting breast. 
 " Me little Biddy," he crooned over his much cov- 
 eted possession. " Me little Norah," he added 
 fondly, looking down at his second. The thought 
 of his narrow escape from losing these irreplace- 
 able treasures rekindled his wrath. Again he
 
 228 Baby Mine 
 
 strode toward the bed and looked down at the now 
 semi-quiet comforter. 
 
 " The black heart of ye, mum," he roared, 
 then ordering Maggie to give back " every penny 
 of that shameless creetur's money " he turned to- 
 ward the door. 
 
 So intense had been O'Flarety's excitement and 
 so engrossed was he in his denunciation that he 
 had failed to see the wild-eyed Italian woman 
 rushing toward him from the opposite door. 
 
 " You, you ! " cried the frenzied woman and, to 
 O'Flarety's astonishment, she laid two strong 
 hands upon his arm and drew him round until he 
 faced her. " Where are you going with my 
 baby? " she asked, then peering into the face of 
 the infant nearest to her, she uttered a disap- 
 pointed moan. " 'Tis not my baby ! " she cried. 
 She scanned the face of the second infant again 
 she moaned. 
 
 Having begun to identify this hysterical crea- 
 ture as the possible mother of the third infant, 
 O'Flarety jerked his head in the direction of the 
 cradle. 
 
 " I guess you'll find what you're lookin' for in 
 there," he said. Then bidding Maggie to " git 
 along out o' this " and shrugging his shoulders 
 to convey his contempt for the fugitive beneath 
 the coverlet, he swept quickly from the room. 
 
 Clasping her long-sought darling to her heart 
 and weeping with delight, the Italian mother was
 
 Baby Mine 229 
 
 about to follow O'Flarety through the door 
 when Zoie staggered into the room, weak and ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 " You, you ! " called the indignant Zoie to the 
 departing mother. " How dare you lock my hus- 
 band in the bathroom? " She pointed to the 
 key, which the woman still unconsciously clasped 
 in her hand. " Give me that key," she demanded, 
 " give it to me this instant." 
 
 " Take your horrid old key," said the mother, 
 and she threw it on the floor. " If you ever try 
 to get my baby again, I'll lock your husband in 
 jail," and murmuring excited maledictions in her 
 native tongue, she took her welcome departure. 
 
 Zoie stooped for the key, one hand to her giddy 
 head, but Aggie, who had just returned to the 
 room, reached the key first and volunteered to go 
 to the aid of the captive Alfred, who was pound- 
 ing desperately on the bathroom door and de- 
 manding his instant release. 
 
 "I'll let him out," said Aggie. "You get 
 into bed," and she slipped quickly from the room. 
 
 Utterly exhausted and half blind with fatigue 
 Zoie lifted the coverlet and slipped beneath it. 
 Her first sensation was of touching something 
 rough and scratchy, then came the awful convic- 
 tion that the thing against which she lay was 
 alive. 
 
 Without stopping to investigate the identity 
 of her uninvited bed-fellow, or even daring to
 
 230 Baby Mine 
 
 look behind her, Zoie fled from the room emitting 
 a series of screams that made all her previous 
 efforts in that direction seem mere baby cries. 
 So completely had Jimmy been enveloped in the 
 coverlets and for so long a time that he had ac- 
 quired a vague feeling of aloftness toward the 
 rest of his fellows, and had lost all knowledge of 
 their goings and comings. But when his unex- 
 pected companion was thrust upon him he was 
 galvanised into sudden action by her scream, and 
 swathed in a large pink comforter, he rolled 
 ignominiously from the upper side of the bed, 
 where he lay on the floor panting and enmeshed, 
 awaiting further developments. Of one thing he 
 was certain, a great deal had transpired since he 
 had sought the friendly solace of the covers and 
 he had no mind to lose so good a friend as the 
 pink comforter. By the time he had summoned 
 sufficient courage to peep from under its edge, a 
 babel of voices was again drawing near, and he 
 hastily drew back in his shell and waited. 
 
 Not daring to glance at the scene of her fright, 
 Zoie pushed Aggie before her into the room and 
 demanded that she look in the bed. 
 
 Seeing the bed quite empty and noticing noth- 
 ing unusual in the fact that the pink comforter, 
 along with other covers, had slipped down behind 
 it, Aggie hastened to reassure her terrified friend. 
 
 " You imagined it, Zoie," she declared, " look 
 for yourself."
 
 Baby Mine 231 
 
 Zoie's small face peeped cautiously around the 
 edge of the doorway. 
 
 " Well, perhaps 1 did," she admitted; then she 
 slipped gingerly into the room, " my nerves are 
 jumping like fizzy water." 
 
 They were soon to " jump " more, for at this 
 instant, Alfred, burning with anger at the indig- 
 nity of having been locked in the bathroom, en- 
 tered the room, demanding to know the where- 
 abouts of the lunatic mother, who had dared to 
 make him a captive in his own house. 
 
 "Where is she? " he called to Zoie and Aggie, 
 and his eye roved wildly about the room. Then 
 his mind reverted with anxiety to his newly ac- 
 quired offspring. " My boys ! " he cried, and he 
 rushed toward the crib. "They're gone!" he 
 declared tragically. 
 
 " Gone? " echoed Aggie. 
 
 " Not all of them," said Zoie. 
 
 " All," insisted Alfred, and his hands went dis- 
 tractedly toward his head. " She's taken them 
 all." 
 
 Zoie and Aggie looked at each other in a dazed 
 way. They had a hazy recollection of having 
 seen one babe disappear with the Italian woman, 
 but what had become of the other two? 
 
 "Where did they go?" asked Aggie. 
 
 " I don't know," said Zoie, with the first truth 
 she had spoken that night, " I left them with 
 Jimmy."
 
 232 Baby Mine 
 
 " Jimmy ! " shrieked Alfred, and a diabolical 
 light lit his features. " Jimmy ! " he snorted, 
 with sudden comprehension, " then he's at it 
 again. He's crazy as she is. This is inhuman. 
 This joke has got to stop! " And with that de- 
 cision he started toward the outer door. 
 
 " But Allie ! " protested Zoie, really alarmed 
 by the look that she saw on his face. 
 
 Alfred turned to his trembling wife with sup- 
 pressed excitement, and patted her shoulder con- 
 descendingly. 
 
 " Control yourself, my dear," he said. " Con- 
 trol yourself; I'll get your babies for you trust 
 me, I'll get them. And then," he added with 
 parting emphasis from the doorway, " I'll settle 
 with Jimmy! " 
 
 By uncovering one eye, Jimmy could now per- 
 ceive that Zoie and Aggie were engaged in a 
 heated argument at the opposite side of the 
 room. By uncovering one ear he learned that 
 they were arranging a line of action for him im- 
 mediatety upon his reappearance. He determined 
 not to wait for the details. 
 
 Fixing himself cautiously on all fours, and 
 making sure that he was well covered by the pink 
 comforter, he began to crawl slowly toward the 
 bedroom door. 
 
 Turning away from Aggie with an impatient 
 exclamation, Zoie suddenly beheld what seemed to 
 her a large pink monster with protruding claws
 
 Baby Mine 233 
 
 wriggling its way hurriedly toward the inner 
 room. 
 
 " Look ! " she screamed, and pointing in hor- 
 ror toward the dreadful creature now dragging 
 itself across the threshold, she sank fainting into 
 Aggie's outstretched arms.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 HAVING dragged the limp form of her friend 
 to the near-by couch, Aggie was bending over her 
 to apply the necessary restoratives, when Alfred 
 returned in triumph. He was followed by the 
 officer in whose arms were three infants, and be- 
 hind whom was the irate O'Flarety, the hysteri- 
 cal Italian woman, and last of all, Maggie. 
 
 " Bring them all in here, officer," called Alfred 
 over his shoulder. " I'll soon prove to you whose 
 babies those are." Then turning to Aggie, who 
 stood between him and the fainting Zoie he cried 
 triumphantly, " I've got them Aggie, I've got 
 them." He glanced toward the empty bed. 
 " Where's Zoie? " he asked. 
 
 " She's fainted," said Aggie, and stepping from 
 in front of the young wife, she pointed toward the 
 couch. 
 
 " Oh, my darling ! " cried Alfred, with deep 
 concern as he rushed to Zoie and began franti- 
 cally patting her hands. " My poor frightened 
 darling ! " Then he turned to the officer, his 
 sense of injury welling high within him, "You 
 see what these people have done to my wife? 
 She's fainted." Ignoring the uncomplimentary 
 remarks of O'Flarety, he again bent over Zoie. 
 234,
 
 Baby Mine 235 
 
 " Rouse yourself, my dear," he begged of her. 
 " Look at me," he pleaded. " Your babies are 
 safe." 
 
 " Her babies ! " snorted O'Flarety, unable 
 longer to control his pent up indignation. 
 
 " I'll let you know when I want to hear from 
 you," snarled the officer to O'Flarety. 
 
 " But they're not her babies," protested the 
 Italian woman desperately. 
 
 " Cut it," shouted the officer, and with low 
 mutterings, the outraged parents were obliged 
 to bide their time. 
 
 Lifting Zoie to a sitting posture Alfred fanned 
 her gently until she regained her senses. " Your 
 babies are all right," he assured her. " I've 
 brought them all back to you." 
 
 " All? " gasped Zoie weakly, and she won- 
 dered what curious fate had been intervening to 
 assist Alfred in such a prodigious undertaking. 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Alfred, " every one," and he 
 pointed toward the three infants in the officer's 
 arms. " See, dear, see." 
 
 Zoie turned her eyes upon what seemed to her 
 numberless red faces. " Oh ! " she moaned and 
 again she swooned. 
 
 " I told you she'd be afraid to face us," shouted 
 the now triumphant O'Flarety. 
 
 " You brute ! " retorted the still credulous Al- 
 fred, " how dare you persecute this poor demented 
 mother? "
 
 236 Baby Mine 
 
 Alfred's persistent solicitude for Zoie was too 
 much for the resentful Italian woman. 
 
 " She didn't persecute me, oh no ! " she ex- 
 claimed sarcastically. 
 
 " Keep still, you ! " commanded the officer. 
 
 Again Zoie was reviving and again Alfred lifted 
 her in his arms and begged her to assure the offi- 
 cer that the babies in question were hers. 
 
 " Let's hear her say it," demanded O'Flarety. 
 
 " You shall hear her," answered Alfred, with 
 confidence. Then he beckoned to the officer to 
 approach, explaining that Zoie was very weak. 
 
 " Sure," said the officer ; then planting himself 
 directly in front of Zoie's half closed eyes, he 
 thrust the babies upon her attention. 
 
 " Look, Zoie ! " pleaded Alfred. " Look ! " 
 
 Zoie opened her eyes to see three small red 
 faces immediately opposite her own. 
 
 " Take them away ! " she cried, with a frantic 
 wave of her arm, " take them away ! " 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Alfred in astonishment. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" shouted O'Flarety. 
 This hateful reminder brought Alfred again to 
 the protection of his young and defenceless wife. 
 
 " The excitement has unnerved her," he said 
 to the officer. 
 
 " Ain't you about done with my kids ? " asked 
 O'Flarety, marvelling how any man with so little 
 penetration as the officer, managed to hold down 
 a "good payin' job."
 
 Baby Mine 237 
 
 " What do you want for your proof anyway? " 
 asked the mother. But Alfred's faith in the va- 
 lidity of his new parenthood was not to be so 
 easily shaken. 
 
 " My wife is in no condition to be questioned," 
 he declared. " She's out of her head, and if you 
 don't " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, for without warning, the 
 door was thrown open and a second officer strode 
 into their midst dragging by the arm the reluc- 
 tant Jimmy. 
 
 " I guess I've got somethin' here that you folks 
 need in your business," he called, nodding toward 
 the now utterly demoralised Jimmy. 
 
 " Jimmy ! " exclaimed Aggie, having at last 
 got her breath. 
 
 " The Joker ! " cried Alfred, bearing down 
 upon the panting Jimmy with a ferocious expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " I caught him slipping down the fire-escape," 
 explained the officer. 
 
 " Again? " exclaimed Aggie and Alfred in tones 
 of deep reproach. 
 
 " Jimmy," said Alfred, coming close to his 
 i'riend, and fixing his eyes upon him in a deter- 
 mined effort to control the poor creature's fast 
 failing faculties, " you know the truth of this 
 thing. You are the one who sent me that tele- 
 gram, you are the one who told me that I was a 
 father."
 
 238 Baby Mine 
 
 " Well, aren't you a father ? " asked Aggie, 
 trying to protect her dejected spouse. 
 
 " Of course I am," replied Alfred, with every 
 confidence, " but I have to prove it to the offi- 
 cer. Jimmy knows," he concluded. Then turn- 
 ing to the uncomfortable man at his side, he de- 
 manded imperatively, " Tell the officer the truth, 
 you idiot. No more of your jokes. Am I a 
 father or am I not? " 
 
 " If you're depending on me for your future 
 offspring," answered Jimmy, wagging his head 
 with the air of a man reckless of consequences, 
 " you are not a father." 
 
 " Depending on you? " gasped Alfred, and he 
 stared at his friend in bewilderment. " What do 
 you mean by that ? " 
 
 " Ask them," answered Jimmy, and he nodded 
 toward Zoie and Aggie. 
 
 Alfred appealed to Aggie. 
 
 " Ask Zoie," said Aggie. 
 
 Alfred bent over the form of the again pros- 
 trate Zoie. " My darling," he entreated, " rouse 
 yourself." Slowly she opened her eyes. " Now," 
 said Alfred, with enforced self-control, " you 
 must look the officer squarely in the eye and tell 
 him whose babies those are," and he nodded to- 
 ward the officer, who was now beginning to enter- 
 tain grave doubts on the subject. 
 
 "How should 7 know?" cried Zoie, too ex- 
 hausted for further lying.
 
 Baby Mine 239 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Alfred, his hand on his 
 forehead. 
 
 " I only borrowed them," said Zoie, " to get 
 you home," and with that she sank back on the 
 couch and closed her eyes. 
 
 " What did I tell you? " cried the triumphant 
 O'Flarety. 
 
 " I guess they're your'n all right," admitted 
 the officer doggedly, and he grudgingly released 
 the three infants to their rightful parents. 
 
 " I guess they'd better be," shouted O'Flarety ; 
 then he and the Italian woman made for the door 
 with their babes pressed close to their hearts. 
 
 " Wait a minute," cried Alfred. " I want an 
 understanding." 
 
 O'Flarety turned in the doorway and raised a 
 warning fist. 
 
 " If you don't leave my kids alone, you'll git 
 ' an understanding.' ' 
 
 " Me too," added the mother. 
 
 " On your way," commanded the officer to the 
 pair of them, and together with Maggie and the 
 officer, they disappeared forever from the Hardy 
 household. 
 
 Alfred gazed about the room. " My God ! " 
 he exclaimed; then he turned to Jimmy who was 
 still in the custody of the second officer: "If I'm 
 not a father, what am I ? " 
 
 " I'd hate to tell you," was Jimmy's unsym- 
 pathetic reply, and in utter dejection Alfred sank
 
 240 Baby Mine 
 
 on the foot of the bed and buried his head in his 
 hands. 
 
 " What shall I do with this one, sir? " asked the 
 officer, undecided as to Jimmy's exact standing in 
 the household. 
 
 " Shoot him, for all I care," groaned Alfred, 
 and he rocked to and fro. 
 
 " How ungrateful ! " exclaimed Aggie, then she 
 signalled to the officer to go. 
 
 " No more of your funny business," said the 
 officer with a parting nod at Jimmy and a vindic- 
 tive light in his eyes when he remembered the 
 bruises that Jimmy had left on his shins. 
 
 " Oh, Jimmy ! " said Aggie sympathetically, 
 and she pressed her hot face against his round 
 apoplectic cheek. " You poor dear ! And after 
 all you have done for us ! " 
 
 " Yes," sneered Zoie, having regained sufficient 
 strength to stagger to her feet, " he's done a lot, 
 hasn't he? " And then forgetting that her origi- 
 nal adventure with Jimmy which had brought 
 about such disastrous results was still unknown 
 to Aggie and Alfred, she concluded bitterly, " All 
 this would never have happened, if it hadn't been 
 for Jimmy and his horrid old luncheon." 
 
 Jimmy was startled. This was too much, 
 and just as he had seemed to be well out of com- 
 plications for the remainder of his no doubt short 
 life. He turned to bolt for the door but Aggie's 
 eyes were upon him.
 
 Baby Mine 241 
 
 " Luncheon? " exclaimed Aggie and she re- 
 garded him with a puzzled frown. 
 
 Zoie's hand was already over her lips, but too 
 late. 
 
 Recovering from his somewhat bewildering sense 
 of loss, Alfred, too, was now beginning to sit up 
 and take notice. 
 
 " What luncheon ? " he demanded. 
 
 Zoie gazed from Alfred to Aggie, then at 
 Jimmy, then resolving to make a clean breast of 
 the matter, she sidled toward Alfred with her 
 most ingratiating manner. 
 
 " Now, Alfred," she purred, as she endeavoured 
 to get one arm about his unsuspecting neck, " if 
 you'll only listen, I'll tell you the real truth" 
 
 A wild despairing cry from Alfred, a dash to- 
 ward the door by Jimmy, and a determined effort 
 on Aggie's part to detain her spouse, temporarily 
 interrupted Zoie's narrative. 
 
 But in spite of these discouragements, Zoie did 
 eventually tell Alfred the real truth, and before 
 the sun had risen on the beginning of another day, 
 she had added to her confession, promises whose 
 happy fulfillment was evidenced for many years 
 after by the chatter of glad young voices, up and 
 down the stairway of Alfred's new suburban 
 home, and the flutter of golden curls in and out 
 amongst the sunlight and shadows of his ample, 
 well kept grounds. 
 
 THE END
 
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