But even her sharp eyes had failed to discover the place left vacant by a deserting member of the shirt button fraternity.

I knew she had done her best, and I pitied, rather than blamed her, for I was sensible that a knowledge of the fact which had just come to light would trouble her a thousand times more than it did me.
The breakfast hour passed without a discovery by Mrs.Jones of the fact that there was a button off of the bosom of my shirt.

But, when I came in at dinner time, her first words, looking at me, were: "Why, Mr.Jones, there's a button off your bosom." "I know," said I, indifferently.

"It was off when I put the shirt on this morning.

But it makes no difference--you can sew it on when the shirt next comes from the wash." I was really sincere in what I said, and took some merit to myself for being as composed as I was on so agitating subject.