“Jimmy!” cried Aggie. “How awful!” and before Jimmy was fairly out of the front gate, she had seized her hat and gloves and rushed to the rescue of her friend.
Not surprised at finding Zoie in a state of collapse, Aggie opened her arms sympathetically to receive the weeping confidences that she was sure would soon come.
“Zoie dear,” she said as the fragile mite rocked to and fro. “What is it?” She pressed the soft ringlets from the girl's throbbing forehead.
“It's Alfred,” sobbed Zoie. “He's gone!”
“Yes, I know,” answered Aggie tenderly. “Isn't it awful? Jimmy just told me.”
“Jimmy told you WHAT?” questioned Zoie, and she lifted her head and regarded Aggie with sudden uneasiness. Her friend's answer raised Jimmy considerably in Zoie's esteem. Apparently he had not breathed a word about the luncheon.
“Why, Jimmy told me,” continued Aggie, “that you and Alfred had had another tiff, and that Alfred had gone for good.”
“For GOOD!” echoed Zoie and her eyes were wide with terror. “Did Alfred tell Jimmy that?”
Aggie nodded.
“Then he MEANS it!” cried Zoie, at last fully convinced of the strength of Alfred's resolve. “But he shan't,” she declared emphatically. “I won't let him. I'll go after him. He has no right——” By this time she was running aimlessly about the room.