“It's a pity you havn't something worse to complain of than a button off your shirt. If you'd _some_ wives, you would, I know. I'm sure I'm never without a needle-and-thread in my hand. What with you and the children, I'm made a perfect slave of. And what's my thanks? Why if once in your life a button's off your shirt--what do you cry '_oh_' at? I say once, Mr. Cau dle; or twice, or three times, at most. I'm sure, Caudle, no man's buttons in the world are better looked after than your's. I only wish I'd kept the shirts you had when you were first married! I should like to know where were your buttons then? “Yes, it _is_ worth talking of! But that's how you always try to put me down. You fly into a rage, and then if I only try to speak, you won't hear me. That's how you men always will have all the talk to yourselves: a poor woman isn't allowed to get a word in. “A nice notion you have of a wife, to suppose she's nothing to think of but her husband's buttons. A pretty notion, indeed, you have of marriage. Ha! if poor women only knew what they had to go through! What with buttons, and one thing and another! They'd never tie themselves up to the best man in the world, I'm sure. What would they do, Mr. Caudle? Why, do much better without you, I'm certain. “And it's my belief, after all, that the button wasn't off the shirt: it's my belief that you pulled it off, that you might have something to talk about. Oh, you 're aggravating enough, when you like, for anything! All I know is, it's very odd that the button should be off the shirt; for I'm sure no woman's a greater slave to her husband's buttons than I am. I only say, it's very odd. “However, there's one comfort; it can't last long. I'm worn to death with your temper, and sha'n't trouble you a great while. Ha, you may laugh! And I dare say you would laugh! I've no doubt of it! That's your love--that's your feeling! I know that I'm sinking, every day, though I say nothing about it. And when I'm gone, we shall see how your second wife will look after your buttons! You 'll find out the difference, then. Yes, Caudle, you 'll think of me, then: for then, I hope, you 'll never have a blessed button to your back. “No, I'm not a vindictive woman, Mr. Caudle, nobody ever called me that, but you. What do you say? Nobody ever knew so much of me? That's nothing; at all to do with it. Ha! I wouldn't have your aggravating temper, Caudle, for mines of gold. It's a good thing I'm not as worrying as you are--or a nice house there'd be between us. I only wish you'd had a wife that _would_ have talked to you! then you 'd have known the difference. But you impose upon me, because, like a poor fool, I say nothing. I should be ashamed of myself, Caudle.