“Yes, sir,” murmured Maggie, far from sharing Alfred's enthusiasm. Feeling no desire to renew his acquaintance with Maggie, particularly under Alfred's watchful eye, Jimmy had sought his old refuge, the high backed chair. As affairs progressed and there seemed no doubt of Zoie's being able to handle the situation to the satisfaction of all concerned, Jimmy allowed exhaustion and the warmth of the firelight to have their way with him. His mind wandered toward other things and finally into space. His head dropped lower and lower on his chest; his breathing became laboured--so laboured in fact that it attracted the attention of Maggie, who was about to pass him on her way to the door. “Sure an it's Mr. Jinks!” exclaimed Maggie. Then coming close to the side of the unsuspecting sleeper, she hissed a startling message in his ear. “Me mother said to tell you that me fadder's hoppin' mad at you, sir.” Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He studied the young person at his elbow, then he glanced at Alfred, utterly befuddled as to what had happened while he had been on a journey to happier scenes. Apparently Maggie was waiting for an answer to something, but to what? Jimmy thought he detected an ominous look in Alfred's eyes. Letting his hand fall over the arm of the chair so that Alfred could not see it, Jimmy began to make frantic signals to Maggie to depart; she stared at him the harder. “Go away,” whispered Jimmy, but Maggie did not move. “Shoo, shoo!” he said, and waved her off with his hand. Puzzled by Jimmy's sudden aversion to this apparently harmless child, Alfred turned to Maggie with a puckered brow. “Your father's mad at Jimmy?” he repeated. “What about?” For once Jimmy found it in his heart to be grateful to Zoie for the prompt answer that came from her direction. “The wash, dear,” said Zoie to Alfred; “Jimmy had to go after the wash,” and then with a look which Maggie could not mistake for an invitation to stop longer, Zoie called to her haughtily, “You needn't wait, Maggie; we understand.” “Sure, an' it's more 'an I do,” answered Maggie, and shaking her head sadly, she slipped from the room. But Alfred could not immediately dismiss from his mind the picture of Maggie's inhuman parent. “Just fancy,” he said, turning his head to one side meditatively, “fancy any man not liking to be the father of twins,” and with that he again bent over the cradle and surveyed its contents. “Think, Jimmy,” he said, when he had managed to get the three youngsters in his arms, “just think of the way THAT father feels, and then think of the way _I_ feel.” “And then think of the way _I_ feel,” grumbled Jimmy. “You!” exclaimed Alfred; “what have you to feel about?” Before Jimmy could answer, the air was rent by a piercing scream and a crash of glass from the direction of the inner rooms. “What's that?” whispered Aggie, with an anxious glance toward Zoie. “Sounded like breaking glass,” said Alfred.