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 declaring 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 sudden 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.
“What shall we do?” cried the distraught Alfred.
“It's all right now,” counselled Aggie, “so long as it didn't turn in too suddenly.”
“We'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 unsteadiness 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 command 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 stammer nervously, “Why—why—why, that's the OTHER one.”