When Aggie predicted that the few months of waiting would pass quickly
for Zoie, she was quite correct. They passed quickly for Aggie as well;
but how about Jimmy? When he afterward recalled this interval in his
life, it was always associated with long strands of lace winding around
the legs of the library chairs, white things lying about in all the
places where he had once enjoyed sitting or lying, late dinners, lonely
breakfasts, and a sense of isolation from Aggie.
One evening when he had waited until he was out of all patience with
Aggie, he was told by his late and apologetical spouse that she had been
helping Zoie to redecorate her bedroom to fit the coming occasion.
"It is all done in pink and white," explained Aggie, and then followed
detailed accounts of the exquisite bed linens, the soft lovely hangings,
and even the entire relighting of the room.
"Why pink?" asked Jimmy, objecting to any scheme of Zoie's on general
principles.
"It's Alfred's favourite colour," explained Aggie. "Besides, it's so
becoming," she added.
Jimmy could not help feeling that this lure to Alfred's senses was
absolutely indecent, and he said so.
"Upon my word," answered Aggie, quite affronted, "you are getting as
unreasonable as Alfred himself." Then as Jimmy prepared to sulk, she
added coaxingly, "I was GOING to tell you about Zoie's lovely new
negligee, and about the dear little crib that just matches it.
Everything is going to be in harmony."
"With Zoie in the house?" asked Jimmy sceptically.
"I can't think why you've taken such a dislike to that helpless child,"
said Aggie.
A few days later, while in the midst of his morning's mail, Jimmy was
informed that it was now time for him to conduct Aggie and Zoie to the
Babies' Home to select the last, but most important, detail for
their coming campaign. According to instructions, Jimmy had been in
communication with the amused Superintendent of the Home, and he now led
the two women forth with the proud consciousness that he, at least, had
attended properly to his part of the business. By the time they reached
the Children's Home, several babies were on view for their critical
inspection.
Zoie stared into the various cribs containing the wee, red mites with
puckered faces. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, "haven't you any white ones?"
"These are supposed to be white," said the Superintendent, with an
indulgent smile, "the black ones are on the other side of the room."