So, speaking from the impulse of the moment, I said, glancing first at Mrs.Jones, then around the table, and then pointing down at my bosom, "The old story of shirt buttons again!" Instantly the color mounted to the cheeks and brow of Mrs.Jones; then the color as quickly melted away, and a look of triumph passed over her face.

She pushed back her chair quickly, and rising up, came round to where I sat, took hold of the button I had failed to see, and holding it between her fingers, said, "Oh, yes, this _is_ the old story, Mr.Jones!" I drew down my chin so as to get a low angle of vision, and sure enough, the button was there.

A burst of laughter went around the table, in which Mrs.Jones most heartily joined; and I laughed, too, as glad as she was, that the joke was all on her side.

I have never, you may be sure, heard the last of this; but it was a lucky incident, for it has given Mrs.Jones something to fall back upon, and have her jest occasionally, whenever I happen to discover that a button is among the missing, and that she can, even at times, find it in her heart to jest on such a subject, is, I can assure you, a great gain.

So much for shirt buttons.