“The fact is,” stammered Jimmy, “I just came over to bring Aggie——”        he corrected himself—“that is, to bring Zoie a little message from Aggie.”      

       “It seemed to be a SAD one,” answered Alfred, with a sarcastic smile, as he recalled the picture of Zoie weeping upon his friend's sleeve.     

       “Oh no—no!” answered Jimmy, with an elaborate attempt at carelessness.     

       “Do you generally play the messenger during business hours?” thundered Alfred, becoming more and more enraged at Jimmy's petty evasions.     

       “Just SOMETIMES,” answered Jimmy, persisting in his amiable manner.     

       “Jimmy,” said Alfred, and there was a solemn warning in his voice, “don't YOU lie to me!”      

       Jimmy started as though shot. The consciousness of his guilt was strong upon him. “I beg your pardon,” he gasped, for the want of anything more intelligent to say.     

       “You don't do it well,” continued Alfred, “and you and I are old friends.”      

       Jimmy's round eyes fixed themselves on the carpet.     

       “My wife has been telling you her troubles,” surmised Alfred.     

       Jimmy tried to protest, but the lie would not come.     

       “Very well,” continued Alfred, “I'll tell you something too. I've done with her.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and began to walk up and down.     

       “What a turbulent household,” thought Jimmy and then he set out in pursuit of his friend. “I'm sorry you've had a misunderstanding,” he began.     

       “Misunderstanding!” shouted Alfred, turning upon him so sharply that he nearly tripped him up, “we've never had anything else. There was never anything else for us TO have. She's lied up hill and down dale from the first time she clinched her baby fingers around my hand—” he imitated Zoie's dainty manner—“and said 'pleased to meet you!' But I've caught her with the goods this time,” he shouted, “and I've just about got HIM.”      

       “Him!” echoed Jimmy weakly.     

      

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