Darling put your pants back on? Frowning, Maggy drew back and looked at the telephone receiver strangely. "Mother, is there someone there with you?"

"Well, dear...I guess you could say I have company."

"Company?" Maggy said slowly. "What kind of company?"

"Why dear, male company, of course."

"Do you mean to tell me," Maggy croaked, "that you have a male in the house without his pants on?"

"To tell you the truth, dear," her mother admitted with a soft chuckle, "he really doesn't have much of anything on."

Maggy held the phone aside so she could swear. "What on earth is this person doing in your house without his pants on? Never mind, Mother," she went on, shaking her head. "I'm not sure I want to know. May I ask how on earth you met this...person?"

"Actually, I just met Bobby today. And Maggy, he has the most glorious blue eyes," her mother gushed. "Wait until you meet him."

Aware that her boss Miss Barklay was sitting in the next office, Maggy cupped her hand over the receiver. "Do you mean to tell me that you let a perfect stranger in your house because you liked his eyes!"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," her mother chided. "I liked much more than his eyes. He also has a wonderful smile. Although it would be much nicer if he had all his teeth."

"Had all his what!" Maggy cried, bouncing out of her chair.

"Teeth, dear," her mother repeated sweetly as Maggy began to pace frantically around her office.

"Mother...mmm...what...does this...person do for a living?"

"Do?" Elizabeth hesitated. "Well dear, Bobby really doesn't do anything. He has very simple needs, though," she added cheerfully. "A bottle now and then and he's really quite happy."

"Oh Lord!" Maggy moaned, almost dropping the receiver as visions of a toothless wino danced through her mind. "Mother, now listen very carefully to me. I'm on my way home. I want you to--"

"Got to run now, dear. Bobby's waiting. I'm going to take him to lunch."

"You're taking him? Mother! Mother!"

Elizabeth plunked down the receiver. Chuckling softly, she bent down to scoop up two-year-old Bobby off the floor.

"Shame on you, Elizabeth," the man on her couch scolded, wagging a finger at her.