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Mrs. And Mrs. Spoopendyke

Mrs. And Mrs. Spoopendyke image
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Brooklyn Eagle. N'ow, iny dear," said Mr. Spoopendyke, prancing into the sitting room wiiu evory evidence of deliglit and contentment pictured on h!s faeo. "Now, iny dear.what do youthiukTvebrouglit yon?" "l'ru sure I haro no idea," fluttered Mr?. Spoopendyke; "Pleasc teil rao what it is, for I know its something oice?" Look' irrinnod Mr. Spoopendyke. unwrapping the package and devolopinw a eabiimt plmtograpli of liimsell' ¦iicel fratned in gilt. "How do vou ike it?" and Mr. Spoopendj ke held it mit at arm's length and adniirud it bugely. "Isn't itpcrfectly splcndid?" gulped Mrs. Spoopendyke. "It is the best iikeness of you ï have ever seen. Did 'uu get it furnie?" Óf oourse," replied Mr. Spoopenilyke, still burieel iu admiration of hif eounterfeit. "You don't imagine I got it, for the rats, do you? Haven't any kind of a notion I brouiht it home to Kill bugs with, iuivi; you? Now where shall we hc.ntr it?" 'I don't know," nnirmured Mrs. Spoopendye, with her fitiger to herlips ¦Why wouldn't thai apace beiween the two windóvrs bfl a good place?" ¦'Why wouldn't the top ebelt of the pantry be betterP" grotvled Mr. Spoopcndyke, "if you are looking fur a place where the liglit vvon't strike it why not pul it onder tho oarpet, ot stick it bctween the mattresses! The picture demands some refulgence to show it off, and I'm goiug to put it where tho most refulgence is calcuhtted to strike it. Now where can we pnt it?" "ísn't that a good place, right over the bed?'' suggestedMrs. Spoopendyke. who began to sec that her husband was aimingiorthechimney, where the painting oí her fatlier has hucg for years. "If you hang it over the bed, I cansce it whenever I come into the room." "Just so," snarled Spoopendyke, running a cord througb the eyes in the hack oí the frame "I don't know, Ihough," he coutinued, as a brilliant idea 'oocuredr to him, "You like tliat placo between the two Windows best, don't you? I don'tknow but what that la a góod plaoe'íor a picture.'1 "Best placo in tho room," giggled Mrs. Spoopendyke, satisfied that she had carriod her point and had saved the locr.tion sacrcd to her father. "Théu ril teil you what we'lldo," said Mr, Spoopendyke, vvith a erleam of speculation in his evos. "VVe'll hang yourfa'.her'spictureup there andl will be content to takethe subordínale place over the chunney-piece." Mrs, Spoopendyke saw she had bean oaught in her own trap, aad made uo further resistauce. "Where's tho step l&dder?" asked Spoopendyke, eheerfully, "Bring me the portable ïower of Babel, and 1 will fresco this wall with tho ünest of modern artistic etiorte. " Mrs, Spoopendyke lugged the Btepladder pp stans, and Mr. Spoopendyke, haring arranged his string, mounted to take down the old gentlamau's pioture with a view to the proposed removal. "Look out you don'tfall, dear," suggested Mr?. Spoopondyke, forgetting lier defeat. in her solioitude for her husband. "That's all right stniled Mr. Spoopendyko from his pereh. "You Jast quit roosting on that bottoni round like a htn, and I will get on without ar.y further trouble." Mrs. Spoopendyke jutnped off the ladder, but her dress oaught OU the'step, and down eame Mr. Spoopendyke like a bundie of soiled elolhes, rolling on the carpetand tning (o getelearof the ladder that had rolled after liim and mixed itself up vvith liiiu i that it was diffluult to teil which was which "Wliat diil you let go lor!' yelled Mr. Spoopendyke, trymg to get, his clbow out of his moulli, and still gtrugivlintf with tho ladder. "Didn't I teil ve to hold on? Think I don't know how to get off a ladder vvhen I güt ready? Súpose I want a ladder turntd boitwm upwards vu;u I want to get down? Tüke it off!" he roared, satisfying himself that he was potverless. '-If you want to sne a bulder climh up Bpoopeadko, staud up" against the wall ani ííive, me a show. Dod gast that luider!' and with avioious wrench Mr. Spoopen tlyke con tri ved to f ree himself f rom the ladder and assume a perpendicular. "Let the picture go, dear," cooec Mrs. Spoopendyke. "You can fix i soine other time." 'Notime liko the present!" hissei Mr. Spoopendyke, jamming the laddei against the wall and niounting onco more. "liever put off á father-ín-law nniil to-morrow that you can get awa with to-day! Now you hold that thing liglit, or you will bo apt tobe a witlow lietween this and the time it takes t( aweep-roe up!" and Mr. Spoopendyke seoing that, his wife had a death grip on the láclder, took the pieture from the wall and began to descend cautiously "Shall I take tho picture, dear?1 askeil Mrs. Spoopendyke letting go the ladder and holding Up her hands tor the paintiiig. Mr Spoonendyke turned to hacd i to her, aad losing his balance onci more canic to tho íloor with a crash. "Got it?" shrieked Mr. Spoopendyke as the ladder again toppled over on him and he saw a repetition of his forme mishap. "Think ye got the picture? Got a noïion that yo s#ved enough to collect tho insurance on? If the picture is safe," he contiuued in a subdued and melancholy v-ice, "if the picture is safe, never minil me. Oood by dear. Whcn tliey ask for me, teH'em I am gune to 1 h.-i i-i-::i;i whc-iv tMo measly piulun-a Iers do not break in and corrupt? G - ng to lift that thing oti me, or ave ou ïoing to use it for a tombstoi e? Mark 't 'Hic Jaeet Spoopendyke.' r take ït awaybeforel begin to racert niysupernalural streneth and kick t into the realms of eternal bliss, where the laduer bi eiu liko a -!" and with a prodigious kiek. Mr. Spoopnndyke sent the ladder to the netbermost part of the room and arose to hi-i feet foaming. ,, "Never niind the pictures, dr ar, suggested Mrs. Spoooendyke. "You leave it with me and I'll hang them to morro w." 'üli, you'lldo it," howledMr. Spoopendyke, whirang on his heel and coaiii;r down hard on his own photograph wiïieh hs had carefully laid on the tloor. 'You arft the ime to hang it! Trust ou fora of that kind! If you had a wire along the ceilinr, and a catalogue in yont ear. you'd only want a tin-type aníl a row to be an academy of design ! and with this eouiplicaUul description of his wife's lew failings, Mr. Spoopen dyke shot into bed as if he werepract o ing archery.and nursecl his wounds and wraih until be feil asleep. "I don't care," multered Mrs: Spoopendyke, trying to untie the knot of her shoelace with her teeth. "I don't c.tre. [t will teach him another time to let poor pa's picture alone."


Ann Arbor Courier
Old News