Jerry was gone in an instant, and Mr. Starr looked after him with inscrutable eyes. "Fathers are—only fathers," he said enigmatically.
"Yes," agreed Carol.
"Yes. In a crisis, the other man goes first."
His daughters turned to him then, tenderly, sympathetically.
"You had your turn, father," Connie consoled him. And felt repaid for the effort when he smiled at her.
"They are both fine, you know," said Carol. "The doctor said so."
"We heard him," Fairy assured her.
"Yes, I said all the time you were all awfully silly about it. I knew it was all right. Everybody does it."
"Jerry Junior," Lark mused. "He's here.—'Aunt Lark, may I have a cooky?'"
A few minutes later the door was carefully shoved open by means of a cautious foot, and Jerry stood before them, holding in his arms a big bundle of delicately tinted flannel.