“Stop it!” shrieked Alfred as though mortal man could endure no more. “You've used those trousers to settle every crisis in our lives.”
Zoie gazed at him without daring to breathe; even she was aghast at his fury, but only temporarily. She recovered herself and continued sweetly:
“If everything is SETTLED,” she argued, “where's the harm in talking?”
“We've DONE with talking,” declared Alfred. “From this on, I act.” And determined not to be cheated out of this final decision, he again started for the hall door.
“Oh, Allie!” cried Zoie in a tone of sharp alarm.
In spite of himself Alfred turned to learn the cause of her anxiety.
“You haven't got your overshoes on,” she said.
Speechless with rage, Alfred continued on his way, but Zoie moved before him swiftly. “I'll get them for you, dear,” she volunteered graciously.
“Stop!” thundered Alfred. They were now face to face.
“I wish you wouldn't roar like that,” pouted Zoie, and the pink tips of her fingers were thrust tight against her ears.