Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1881-07-20

Miss Mixcell stared hard at Mr..
Dafiodil.
"Humph? said she. Engaged, are
you?"
"Eh ~ said Mr.. Dafiodil.
well, you needn't have taken SO
much pains to tell me of it," sputter-
ed the old lady. 81 haven't any de-
signs on you"
II assure you, madam
you needn't assure me anything,
said Miss Mixcell, turning her black
satin back upon him. mo, Morris,
you needn't bring the cake. | don't
receive any more calls tonight. The
door, Morris !"
And so Mr.. Dafodil found himself
once more in the street.
II can't understand it at all, said
he to himself. "Who has been spread
ing imputations about me p
General MacJones and his handsome
wife and three pretty daughters were
at home-Lisette, in blue damasse
Corinne, in rose-colored cashmere ;
Lophronia, in maize silk. But Mr..
Daffodil had scarcely shaken hands all
around. before General MacJones strut
ted up to him, with countenance scar
let with rage.
Young man." said he, II am at a
loss to comprehend this remarkably
strange behavior on your part
Sir" said Mr.. Dafodil.
Il hate and despise practical Jokes
roared the general.
Indeed, sir
And would have you to know that
my daughters, Mr.. Dafiodil, are no
husband-hunters.
II never, for an instant supposed,
sir
go will bid you a very good even
ing said the general, holding open
the door.
"A very good-evening," echoed Mrs
MacJones stiffly, while the three daugh-
tiers elevated their three noses at three
different angles, and Mr.. Daffodil rot
out of the room he scarcely knew how.
Perhaps said Mr.. Dafodil, to him
self, Il had better 60 home. My So
cial calls seem to be u failure tonight
Either my friends are inclined to be
quarrelsome, or some one has been gos-
siping and meddling unwarrantably as
to my affairs"
Mr.. Dahodil decided TO walk home.
1t was Just at the hour when gay
crowds are pouring out from under the
opera house colonnadeS, and all the
world is coming home from the theatre
He met divers and sundry Of his
friends; but, although he saluted them
after his usual debonaire fashion, they
looked askance at him, and whispered,
and giggled as he passed.
What is it?" Mr.. Dahodil ques-
toned, of himself, in a nervous agony.
He rushed up stairs to his room,
where Hugh Rexford was still yawn-
ing over the last edition of the evening
paper.
aRexford,' said he, will you just
look at me?'
Certainly" said Rexford, indulging
in a good long stare. {.
Have you done so "
II have"
Then perhaps you will be good
enough to tell me if there is anything
unusual in my appearance"
"Well-yes-I think there is.
"WhereY
"On your back, edged in behind the
button of your coat"
What is it?' demanded Mr.. Dailo-
dill, twisting himself halfway around
to obtain view CT his spinal column.
"a card A ticket! Rexford, for
goodness sake, what is it"
"a white slip of paper, bearing the
word Engaged, in fat, black letters"
Dafodil turned pale.
CAS- true as the world" said he.
I've carried of one of the labels of
the engaged seats at Mrs. Petherell's
morning concert, without knowing it.
I don't wonder the girls laughed, |
don't wonder the old gentleman frown-
ed, and old Miss Mixcell snarled. Now
] know what the illusions TO leap year,
and all that sort of thing, meant. I've
made a first class fool of myself--that's
all"
Hugh Rexford smiled to himself.
The self-sufficiency with which Mr..
Dafiodil had gone Sinking out, the
tribulation with which he came in,
were curious contrast.
I'm almost sorry now that | didn't
tell of il when he went out, thought
Rexford but he said nothing.
The ticket Engaged" was blazing
up in red flames on the CRATE, but it
had done mischief enough already.
Mr.. DafodiPs calls had been any
thing but a success.
The Grumbling Husband.