"You'd better take him, dear," he said.
To the young husband's astonishment, Zoie waved him from her in terror,
and called loudly for Aggie. But no sooner had Aggie appeared on the
scene, than a sharp whistle was heard from the pavement below.
"Pull down the shade!" cried Zoie frantically.
Aggie hastened toward the window.
Attributing Zoie's uneasiness to a caprice of modesty, Alfred turned
from the cradle to reassure her.
"No one can see in way up here," he said.
To Zoie's distress, the lowering of the shade was answered by a yet
shriller whistle from the street below.
"Was it 'up' or 'down'?" cried Zoie to Aggie in an agony of doubt, as
she tried to recall her instructions to Jimmy.
"I don't know," answered Aggie. "I've forgotten."
Another impatient whistle did not improve their memory. Alarmed by
Zoie's increasing excitement, and thinking she was troubled merely by
a sick woman's fancy that someone might see through the window, Alfred
placed the babe quickly in its cradle and crossed to the young wife's
bed.
"It was up, dear," he said. "You had Aggie put it down."
"Then I want it up," declared the seemingly perverse Zoie.
"But it was up," argued Alfred.
A succession of emotional whistles set Zoie to pounding the pillows.
"Put it down!" she commanded.
"But Zoie----" protested Alfred.
"Did I say 'up' or did I say 'down'?" moaned the half-demented Zoie,
while long whistles and short whistles, appealing whistles and impatient
whistles followed each other in quick succession.
"You said down, dear," persisted Alfred, now almost as distracted as his
wife.
Zoie waved him from the room. "I wish you'd get out of here," she cried;
"you make me so nervous that I can't think at all."
"Of course, dear," murmured Alfred, "if you wish it." And with a hurt
and perplexed expression on his face he backed quickly from the room.