"Don't be silly," called Zoie, filled with vague alarm at the thought of

the family physician's appearance and the explanations that this might

entail.

Stepping between Alfred and the 'phone, Aggie protested frantically.

"You see, Alfred," she said, "it is better to have the rash OUT, it

won't do any harm unless it turns IN."

"He's perfectly well," declared Zoie, "if you'll only put him in his

crib and leave him alone."

Alfred looked down at his charge. "Is that right, son?" he asked, and he

tickled the little fellow playfully in the ribs. "I'll tell you what,"

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he called over his shoulder to Zoie, "he's a fine looking boy." And then

with a mysterious air, he nodded to Aggie to approach. "Whom does he

look like?" he asked.

Again Zoie sat up in anxiety. Aggie glanced at her, uncertain what

answer to make.

"I--I hadn't thought," she stammered weakly.

"Go on, go on," exclaimed the proud young father, "you can't tell me

that you can look at that boy and not see the resemblance."

"To whom?" asked Aggie, half fearfully.

"Why," said Alfred, "he's the image of Zoie."

Zoie gazed at the puckered red face in Alfred's arms. "What!" she

shrieked in disgust, then fall back on her pillows and drew the lace

coverlet over her face.

Mistaking Zoie's feeling for one of embarrassment at being over-praised,

Alfred bore the infant to her bedside. "See, dear," he persisted, "see

for yourself, look at his forehead."

"I'd rather look at you," pouted Zoie, peeping from beneath the

coverlet, "if you would only put that thing down for a minute."

"Thing?" exclaimed Alfred, as though doubting his own ears. But before

he could remonstrate further, Zoie's arms were about his neck and she

was pleading jealously for his attention.

"Please, Alfred," she begged, "I have scarcely had a look at you, yet."

Alfred shook his head and turned to baby with an indulgent smile. It was

pleasant to have two such delightful creatures bidding for his entire

attention.

"Dear me," he said to baby. "Dear me, tink of mudder wanting to look at

a big u'gy t'ing like fadder, when she could look at a 'itty witty t'ing

like dis," and he rose and crossed to the crib where he deposited the

small creature with yet more gurgling and endearing.




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