“But, Aggie,” she said fearfully, “suppose Alfred shouldn't come back after I've got the baby? I'd be a widow with a child.”
“Oh, he's sure to come back!” answered Aggie, with a confident air. “He'll take the first train, home.”
“I believe he will,” assented Zoie joyfully. All her clouds were again dispelled. “Aggie,” she cried impulsively, “you are a darling. You have just saved my life.” And she clasped her arms so tightly around Aggie's neck that her friend was in danger of being suffocated.
Releasing herself Aggie continued with a ruffled collar and raised vanity: “You can write him an insinuating letter now and then, just to lead up to the good news gradually.”
Zoie tipped her small head to one side and studied her friend thoughtfully. “Do you know, Aggie,” she said, with frank admiration, “I believe you are a better liar than I am.”
“I'm NOT a liar,” objected Aggie vehemently, “at least, not often,” she corrected. “I've never lied to Jimmy in all my life.” She drew herself up with conscious pride. “And Jimmy has NEVER LIED TO ME.”
“Isn't that nice,” sniffed Zoie and she pretended to be searching for her pocket-handkerchief.
But Aggie did not see her. She was glancing at the clock.
“I must go now,” she said. And she started toward the door.
“But, Aggie——” protested Zoie, unwilling to be left alone.