“You're excited,” said Aggie. “Wouldn't YOU be excited,” questioned Zoie'”if you were expecting a baby and a husband in the morning?” “I suppose I should,” admitted Aggie. For a time the two friends sewed in silence, then Zoie looked up with sudden anxiety. “You're SURE Jimmy sent the wire?” she asked. “I saw him write it,” answered Aggie, “while I was in the office to-day.” “When will Alfred get it?” demanded Zoie eagerly. “Oh, he won't GET it until to-morrow morning,” said Aggie. “I told you that to-day. It's a night message.” “I wonder what he'll be doing when he gets it?” mused Zoie. There was a suspicion of a smile around her lips. “What will he do AFTER he gets it?” questioned Aggie. Looking up at her friend in alarm, Zoie suddenly ceased sewing. “You don't mean he won't come?” she gasped. “Of course I don't,” answered Aggie. “He's only HUMAN if he is a husband.” There was a sceptical expression around Zoie's mouth, but she did not pursue the subject. “How do you suppose that red baby will ever look in this pink basket?” she asked. And then with a regretful little sigh, she declared that she wished she'd “used blue.” “I didn't think the baby that we chose was so horribly red,” said Aggie. “Red!” cried Zoie, “it's magenta.” And again her thread broke. “Oh, darn!” she exclaimed in annoyance, and once more rethreaded her needle. “I couldn't look at it,” she continued with a disgusted little pucker of her face. “I wish they had let us take it this afternoon so I could have got used to it before Alfred gets here.” “Now don't be silly,” scolded Aggie. “You know very well that the Superintendent can't let it leave the home until its mother signs the papers. It will be here the first thing in the morning. You'll have all day to get used to it before Alfred gets here.” “ALL DAY,” echoed Zoie, and the corners of her mouth began to droop. “Won't Alfred be here before TO-MORROW NIGHT?” Aggie was becoming exasperated by Zoie's endless questions. “I told you,” she explained wearily, “that the wire won't be delivered until to-morrow morning, it will take Alfred eight hours to get here, and there may not be a train just that minute.” “Eight long hours,” sighed Zoie dismally. And Aggie looked at her reproachfully, forgetting that it is always the last hour that is hardest to bear. Zoie resumed her sewing resignedly. Aggie was meditating whether she should read her young friend a lecture on the value of patience, when the telephone began to ring violently. Zoie looked up from her sewing with a frown. “You answer it, will you, Aggie?” she said. “I can't let go this thread.” “Hello,” called Aggie sweetly over the 'phone; then she added in surprise, “Is this you, Jimmy dear?” Apparently it was; and as Zoie watched Aggie's face, with its increasing distress she surmised that Jimmy's message was anything but “dear.” “Good heavens!” cried Aggie over the telephone, “that's awful!”