This at least was a compromise, and reluctantly Jimmy allowed the now wailing infant to be placed in his arms.
“Jig it, Jimmy, jig it,” cried Zoie. Jimmy looked down helplessly at the baby's angry red face, but before he had made much headway with the “jigging,” Aggie returned to them, much excited by the message which she had just received over the telephone.
“That mother is making a scene down stairs in the office,” she said.
“You hear,” chided Zoie, in a fury at Jimmy, “what did Aggie tell you?”
“If she wants this thing,” maintained Jimmy, looking down at the bundle in his arms, “she can come after it.”
“We can't have her up here,” objected Aggie.
“Alfred may be back at any minute. He'd catch her. You know what happened the last time we tried to change them.”
“You can send it down the chimney, for all I care,” concluded Jimmy.
“I have it!” exclaimed Aggie, her face suddenly illumined.
“Oh Lord,” groaned Jimmy, who had come to regard any elation on Zoie's or Aggie's part as a sure forewarner of ultimate discomfort for him.