“The more I think of what you did yesterday, the more grateful I am,” he declared. “We were all so worked up that I didn’t thank you half as much as I ought to have done. But I’ve been thinking of it every moment since, and so has my wife.”
“How is she, after the strain of yesterday?” asked Joe, hoping to change the subject from his own exploits.
“She’s all right,” replied the young husband. “Of course, she’s a little shaky and weepy yet, but that’s not to be wondered at when you think of what she went through. But here we are right at the gate. Come in for a minute.”
Joe would gladly have pleaded an excuse but hardly saw how he could, and he followed Bilkins into the neat little living room of the cottage.
Mrs. Bilkins hurried forward to meet him.
“Oh, Joe!” she exclaimed, as she clasped his hand, “I’ve been hoping to get this chance of thanking you for what you did for us yesterday. I was so excited at getting my baby back that I couldn’t think of anything else at the time. But I realize that if it hadn’t been for your quickness and presence of mind I wouldn’t have any baby now.”
She was perilously close to tears, and Joe, who had the masculine dread of a scene, sought to introduce a lighter note.
“The baby himself didn’t seem glad,” he laughed. “The little rascal thought he was out for a grand spree, and he was as good as a kitten while the lunatic had hold of him. But the minute I grabbed him he started in to howl like all possessed. He didn’t like the idea of my breaking up his fun.”
This broke the tension and they all laughed, while Mrs. Bilkins snatched up a fluffy little bunch from the cradle and showed him to his deliverer. The baby cooed and gurgled and stretched out his arms to Joe, who chucked him under the chin.
“Don’t try to come it over me, you young rascal,” he said sternly, but the baby only cooed the more and grabbed at his watch chain.