She Sewed On His Buttons

Oíd Blummer is tight-fisted. Several days ago he said to his wif e : "Maria, I want you to look over that broadcloth vest of mine and put new buttons on it, 'cause I'm going to a card party to-night." "But Ely," answered Mrs B, "I haven't a ny buttons to match that vest and ") "Thunder !" broke in Blummer, "the idea oí' a woman keeping house as long as you have, an' pretendin' to be out 01 buttons. By George! I b'lieve you'll ask me for money to buy 'em witl next." That evening Blummer humee through his supper and began arraying himself for the card party. Presently he called for the broadcloth vest, ani Mrs. B.. with marvelous promptitude lianded it to him. He took it, hastily unfolded it, and then, as his eye took iu its complete appearance, he stood as one transfixed. lt wra a six-buttoi vest, mere were six uutions on il, uiu the dazed optie of Blummer obseryed that tli e first or top one, was a tiny pearl shirt-button, and that the next one was a brasa army overcoat button with U. S. gleaming upon it, and that nuniber three was an oxidized silvei affair, and that number four was a hora. button, evidently from the back of one of the Puritan fathers' eoats, and then carne a suspender button,and then, as the dazzled eyes of old Blummer reached the bottom button - a poker chip (found in Blummer's pocket) with two holes punched through it - he gave a snort that made the chandelier jingle. There is, al'ter all, a line sense of humor about Blummer, and he laugh ed till he cried. And there won't be any button money grudged in that