Jimmy shifted about on the edge of his chair, ill at ease.
“Now if Alfred had only told me that in the first place,” she continued, “I'd have known what to say, but he didn't. Oh no, he was as sweet as could be all through breakfast and last night too, and then just as he was leaving this morning, I said something about luncheon and he said, quite casually, 'Where did you have luncheon YESTERDAY, my dear?' So I answered quite carelessly, 'I had none, my love.' Well, I wish you could have seen him. He called me dreadful things. He says I'm the one thing he can't endure.”
“What's that?” questioned Jimmy, wondering how Alfred could confine himself to any “ONE thing.”
“He says I'm a liar!” shrieked Zoie tearfully.
“Well, aren't you?” asked Jimmy.
“Of course I am,” declared Zoie; “but why shouldn't I be?” She looked at Jimmy with such an air of self-approval that for the life of him he could find no reason to offer. “You know how jealous Alfred is,” she continued. “He makes such a fuss about the slightest thing that I've got out of the habit of EVER telling the TRUTH.” She walked away from Jimmy as though dismissing the entire matter; he shifted his position uneasily; she turned to him again with mock sweetness. “I suppose YOU told AGGIE all about it?” she said.
Jimmy's round eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped lower. “I—I—don't believe I did,” he stammered weakly. “I didn't think of it again.”
“Thank heaven for that!” concluded Zoie with tightly pressed lips. Then she knotted her small white brow in deep thought.
Jimmy regarded her with growing uneasiness. “What are you up to now?” he asked.
“I don't know yet,” mused Zoie, “BUT YOU'RE NOT GOING TO TELL AGGIE—that's ONE SURE thing.” And she pinned him down with her eyes.