To record all that was said about them would fill pages, and I will not, therefore, attempt even a brief record of all the allegations brought against the useful little shirt button.

The final decision was, that it must be the Apple of Discord in disguise.
"A button off, as usual!" I muttered to myself the next morning, as I put on a clean shirt.

Mrs.Jones had risen half an hour before me, and was down stairs giving some directions about breakfast, so that I could not ask to have it sewed on.
And after leaving my room, I thought it as well not to say any thing about it.

In due time we gathered with our friends around the breakfast table.

A sight of them reminded me of the conversation the previous evening, and I felt an irresistible desire to allude to the missing shirt button as quite an apropos and amusing incident.