“Finish shaving?” repeated Alfred in a puzzled 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 something important on his mind.
“By the way,” he said, glancing from one to another, “I forgot to ask—what's his name?”
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 Zoie, meaning only to appeal to him for a name.
“Jimmy!” thundered the infuriated Alfred. “You've called my boy 'Jimmy'? Why 'Jimmy'?”
For once Zoie was without an answer.
After waiting in vain for any response, Alfred advanced upon the uncomfortable Jimmy.