A TRIFLING INCONVENIENCE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2648, 2 October 1882, Page 3

A TRIFLING INCONVENIENCE.

*My dear,’ said Mr t’poopendyko, fee’ing up the chimney, * have you seen my gold coiLr button ?’

‘I saw it tho day you bought It,’ answered Mrs fdpoopendyke, cheerily, ‘ and I thought it very pretty. Why do yon ank ?’ • sponded Mr Spoopendyke, running the bro-.ira handle np in the cornice and shaking it ai if it were a carpet.’ ‘You don’t suppose it la up there, do you?’ asked Mrs Spoopandyko. * Where did you leave it ?' * l eft it in my shirt. Where do you suppo«e I’d leave It --In the hash ?’ And Mr Hpoopeudyko tossed over t.he things in his wife s writing desk and looked ont of the window after it.

* Where did you leave your shirt ?’ arked Mrs Spoopendyke. ‘ Where did I leave my shirt ? Where do you suppose I left it ? Where does a man generally leave his shirt. Mm Spoopendyke ? Think I left it in the ferryboat? Got an idea I left it at prayer meeting, haven’t youl Well, I didn’t, 1 left It off, Mrs Spoopendyke, that's where 1 left It. I left it off, heat me ?’ And Mr Spoopendyke pulled the winter clothing out of the Oidar chest that hadn’t been unlocked for a month. ‘ Where la the shirt now?* persisted Mrs Sporpendyke. ‘ Whers do you suppose it is ? Where do you imagine it la ? I’ll tell you where it is, Mrs Spoopendyke, it’s gone to Bridgeport as a witness in a land snit. Idea I Ask a man where his shirt is ! You know I haven’t been out of the room since I came home last night and took it off,’ and Mr Spoopendyke sailed down stairs and raked the fire out of the kitchen, tut didn’t find the button. ‘ Maybe you lost it on the way home,’ suggested Mrs Spoopendyke, as her husband came up, hot and angry, and began to pull a staffed canary to pieces, to soa if the button had got inside. ‘Oh, yes I very likely ! I stood up against a tree and lost it. Then X hid betiind a fence so I wouldn’t see it. That’s the way it was. If 1 only had your head, Mrs Spoopendyke, I’d turn loose as a razor strop. I don’t know anything sharper th*n you are,’ and Mr Spoopendyke got np in a chair, and clutched a handful of dust off the top of the wardrobe.

‘lt must have fallen out,’ mused Mre Ppoopendyke. ‘ Oh, it must, eh! It must have fallen out 1 Well, I decline, 1 never thought of that I My impression was that it took a buggy and drove out, or a balloon bad hoisted it out,’ and Mr Spoopendyke crawled behind the bureau snd commenced tearing up the carpet. * And if it fell out. It must be somewhere near where he left bis shirt. Now he always throws his shirt on the lounge and the button Is undec that.’ A moment’s search established the infallibility of Mrs Spoopoadyke’s logic. ‘ Oh, yea I Found it,’didn’t yon?’ panted Mr Spoopendyke, as he bumped h!a head against the bureau, and finally climbed to a perpendicular. ‘ ir'erhaps yon will fix my shirts bo that it won’t fall out any more, and maybe you'll have sense enough to mend that lounge, now that it has made so much trouble. If you only tended to the house as I do my business, thare’d never be any difficulty about losing a collar button.’ ‘ It wasn’t my fault ’ began Mrs Spoopendyke. * Wasn’t, eh I Have you found that coni bill that you’ve been looking for since March V * Yes,’ ‘ Have, eh ! Now, where did you put it 2 Where did you find it 2’ ‘ln your overcoat pocket,’—Brooklyn Eagle.