Having dragged the limp form of her friend to the near-by couch, Aggie was bending over her to apply the necessary restoratives, when Alfred returned in triumph. He was followed by the officer in whose arms were three infants, and behind whom was the irate O'Flarety, the hysterical Italian woman, and last of all, Maggie.
“Bring them all in here, officer,” called Alfred over his shoulder. “I'll soon prove to you whose babies those are.” Then turning to Aggie, who stood between him and the fainting Zoie he cried triumphantly, “I've got them Aggie, I've got them.” He glanced toward the empty bed. “Where's Zoie?” he asked.
“She's fainted,” said Aggie, and stepping from in front of the young wife, she pointed toward the couch.
“Oh, my darling!” cried Alfred, with deep concern as he rushed to Zoie and began frantically patting her hands. “My poor frightened darling!” Then he turned to the officer, his sense of injury welling high within him, “You see what these people have done to my wife? She's fainted.” Ignoring the uncomplimentary remarks of O'Flarety, he again bent over Zoie.
“Rouse yourself, my dear,” he begged of her. “Look at me,” he pleaded. “Your babies are safe.”
“HER babies!” snorted O'Flarety, unable longer to control his pent up indignation.
“I'll let you know when I want to hear from you,” snarled the officer to O'Flarety.
“But they're NOT her babies,” protested the Italian woman desperately.
“Cut it,” shouted the officer, and with low mutterings, the outraged parents were obliged to bide their time.
Lifting Zoie to a sitting posture Alfred fanned her gently until she regained her senses. “Your babies are all right,” he assured her. “I've brought them all back to you.”