"He's NOT your baby!" cried the infuriated mother; "he's MY baby.

Give him to me. Give him to me," and with that she sprang upon the

uncomfortable Alfred like a tigress. Throwing her whole weight on his

uplifted elbow, she managed to pull down his arm until she could look

into the face of the washerwoman's promising young offspring. The air

was rent by a scream that made each individual hair of Jimmy's head

stand up in its own defence. He could feel a sickly sensation at the top

of his short thick neck.

"He's NOT my baby," wailed the now demented mother, little dreaming that

the infant for which she was searching was now reposing comfortably on a

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soft pillow in the adjoining room.

As for Alfred, all of this was merely confirmation of Zoie's statement

that this poor soul was crazy, and he was tempted to dismiss her with

worthy forbearance.

"I am glad, madam," he said, "that you are coming to your senses."

Now, all would have gone well and the bewildered mother would no doubt

have left the room convinced of her mistake, had not Jimmy's nerves got

the better of his judgment. Having slipped cautiously from his position

behind the armchair he was tiptoeing toward the door, and was flattering

himself on his escape, when suddenly, as his forward foot cautiously

touched the threshold, he heard the cry of the captor in his wake, and

before he could possibly command the action of his other foot, he felt

himself being forcibly drawn backward by what appeared to be his too

tenacious coat-tails.

"If only they would tear," thought Jimmy, but thanks to the excellence

of the tailor that Aggie had selected for him, they did NOT "tear."

Not until she had anchored Jimmy safely to the centre of the rug did the

irate mother pour out the full venom of her resentment toward him. From

the mixture of English and Italian that followed, it was apparent that

she was accusing Jimmy of having stolen her baby.

"Take me to him," she demanded tragically; "my baby--take me to him!"

Jimmy appealed to Aggie and Zoie. Their faces were as blank as his own.

He glanced at Alfred.

"Humour her," whispered Alfred, much elated by the evidence of his

own self-control as compared to Jimmy's utter demoralisation under the

apparently same circumstances.

Still Jimmy did not budge.

Alfred was becoming vexed; he pointed first to his own forehead, then

to that of Jimmy's hysterical captor. He even illustrated his meaning

by making a rotary motion with his forefinger, intended to remind Jimmy

that the woman was a lunatic.




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