“Then unhook me,” commanded Zoie gaily, as she turned her back to Aggie, and continued to admire the two “creations” on her arm. So pleased was she with the picture of herself in either of the garments that she began humming a gay waltz and swaying to the rhythm.
“Stand still,” commanded Aggie, but her warning was unnecessary, for at that moment Zoie was transfixed by a horrible fear.
“Suppose,” she said in alarm, “that Jimmy can't GET the baby?”
“He's GOT to get it,” answered Aggie emphatically, and she undid the last stubborn hook of Zoie's gown and put the girl from her. “There, now, you're all unfastened,” she said, “hurry and get dressed.”
“You mean undressed,” laughed Zoie, as she let her pretty evening gown fall lightly from her shoulders and drew on her pink negligee. “Oh, Aggie!” she exclaimed, as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, “isn't it a love? And you know,” she added. “Alfred just adores pink.”
“Silly!” answered Aggie, but in spite of herself, she was quite thrilled by the picture of the exquisite young creature before her. Zoie had certainly never looked more irresistible. “Can't you get some of that colour out of your cheeks,” asked Aggie in despair. “You look like a washerwoman.”
“I'll put on some cold cream and powder,” answered Zoie. She flew to her dressing table; and in a moment there was a white cloud in her immediate vicinity. She turned to Aggie to inquire the result. Again the 'phone rang. “Who's that?” she exclaimed in alarm.
“I'll see,” answered Aggie.
“It couldn't be Alfred, could it?” asked Zoie with mingled hope and dread.
“Of course not,” answered Aggie, as she removed the receiver from the hook. “Alfred wouldn't 'phone, he would come right up.”