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 embrace, his mind was distracted by an uneasy thought. “Do you think that Baby is——”
He was not permitted to finish the sentence.
Zoie drew him back to her with a sharp exclamation.
“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 himself to giving his entire attention to his spoiled young wife.