“My angel-face,” she purred, and she took his chubby cheeks in her hands and looked down at him fondly. “You know I ALWAYS want you to come home.” She stooped and kissed Jimmy's pouting lips. He held up his face for more. She smoothed the hair from his worried brow and endeavoured to cheer him. “I'll run right home now,” she said, “and tell cook to get something nice and tempting for you! I can see Zoie later.” “It doesn't matter,” murmured Jimmy, as he followed her toward the door with a doleful shake of his head. “I don't suppose I shall ever enjoy my luncheon again--as long as I live.” “Nonsense,” cried Aggie, “come along.” CHAPTER VIII WHEN Alfred returned to the living room he was followed by his secretary, who carried two well-filled satchels. His temper was not improved by the discovery that he had left certain important papers at his office. Dispatching his man to get them and to meet him at the station with them, he collected a few remaining letters from the drawer of the writing table, then uneasy at remaining longer under the same roof with Zoie, he picked up his hat, and started toward the hallway. For the first time his eye was attracted by a thick layer of dust and lint on his coat sleeve. Worse still, there was a smudge on his cuff. If there was one thing more than another that Alfred detested it was untidiness. Putting his hat down with a bang, he tried to flick the dust from his sleeve with his pocket handkerchief; finding this impossible, he removed his coat and began to shake it violently. It was at this particular moment that Zoie's small face appeared cautiously from behind the frame of the bedroom door. She was quick to perceive Alfred's plight. Disappearing from view for an instant, she soon reappeared with Alfred's favourite clothes-brush. She tiptoed into the room. Barely had Alfred drawn his coat on his shoulders, when he was startled by a quick little flutter of the brush on his sleeve. He turned in surprise and beheld Zoie, who looked up at him as penitent and irresistible as a newly-punished child. “Oh,” snarled Alfred, and he glared at her as though he would enjoy strangling her on the spot. “Alfred,” pouted Zoie, and he knew she was going to add her customary appeal of “Let's make up.” But Alfred was in no mood for nonsense. He thrust his hands in his pockets and made straight for the outer doorway.