The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1882-08-11
The Patient SICK Man.

That's better,' groaned Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke, as his wife arranged the cool pillows
under his head now l can die looking
ont upon the trees and sky, and Mr.. SpOop-
endyke assumed q resigned expression of
visage, and gazed out of the corner of one
eye upon a bare ailanthus tree and a half
dozen telegraph wires.
"Ohl you won't die" said Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke, cheerfully. You're only a little sick,
and you'll get over it.
That's all you know about it," snarled
Mr.. Spoopendyke. ITO hear you al one
would think you only had to be fitted up
with little beds and a bad smell to be a
Government hospital. I'm down sick /
tell ye, and | don't wan any fooling about
it."
"weI, WELL" cooed Mrs. Spoopendyke,
don't excite yourself. Keep quiet and
you'll get we'll"
"Much you'd care" muttered Mr.. Spoop-
1ndyke, turning on his side and resting his
cheek on his hand, an attitude generally
assumed by martyred spirits on the APP
proach of dissolution.
"Wil you take your drops again, dear?"
asked Mrs. Spoopendyke. Its time for
them"
"No, / won't. They're nasty. 1 haven't
had anything but drops for n week. From
the way you administer drops one would
think you was the trap-door of a hanging
machine. Gimme some figs"
"But there amt any figs, dear. I'll go
and get you some" said Mrs. Spoopendyke.
That's it," growled her husband. "You
only want al excuse to cav me to die
alone. Why haven't you got some figs ?
You might know I'd want figs. Got any
citron ?"
"No, / haven't any %citron, but I won't be
more than a minute way, and I'll get you
any fruit you want"
"Oh! yes You'd get it, l a no doubt.
What you want is a rail fence around and
a gate off the hinges to be a dod gasted
orchard. Fetch me some Strawberries
"Why strawberries are out of season.
There amt any in the market now"
81 supposed you'd say that" Dan Mr..
Spoopendyke. you've always got some
excuse. If l should die, you'd have an
apology ready. Gimme something to take
this taste out of my MOUTH
"What would you like, my dear ?' asked
Mrs. spoopendyke.
Soap, dod CAST it. Gimme soap, if We
can't think of anything else" demanded
Mr.. Spoopendyke. "Mebbe you amt got
any soap. At least, you wouldn't nave if
[ wanted it. Got any cherries? ?"
"No; they are out of season, too. There
are some grapes in the ~closet.o
Don't want any measly grapes. If
can't have what / want, L don't want it.
Where's those drops? Why don't you GIN
me my medicine? Going to let me die for
want of q little attention? Want fthe life
insurance, don't ye? Going to gimme those
drops before the next election ?"
Mrs. ~Spoopenkye ladled out the dose,
half of which went down Mr.. Spoopen.
dykes gullet and half over the front of his
night-shirt.
That's right he howled. "Spill 'em.
They're for external application. Put 'em
anywhere. Pour Fem up the chimney" and
Mr.. Spoopendyke fired the spoon across the
room.
Have n piece of orange to take the taste
nwayY" asked Mrs. S. pleasantly.
"No, | won't" objected her spouse, "Gim-
me a piece of muskmelon.n
81 don't believe they have muskmelons
in November, sighed Mrs. S~poopendyke.
"Of course they don't,ny responded Mr..
Spoopendyke. "They don't have anything
when I'm sick. It's a wonder they have
houses. It's q miracle that they have beds
Pm astounded to think they have doctors
and drug-stores. I've got to hurry up and
die, or they won't have any undertakers
or collins, or graves. Gimme a piece of
orange, will ye? 'Spose I'm going to lie
here and chaw on the taste of those drops
for q month 7"
You'd like those grapes" suggested his
wife.
mo, / wouldn't either. What do you
want me to eat them for? Got any inter,
est in the grape trade? lot any commits
sion on those grapes? Anybody pay we tt
make mt eat 'em? One would think you
only wanted an iron arbor and four small
boys climbing over you to be a grape vine
Where's my pill? '
"You took your pill, DEAR replied his
patient wife.
"Oh, of course! A pill is out of season
now. Can't ever nave n pill when l feel
like it," and Mr.. Spoopendyke groaned in
spirit and looked dismal. Nov, sit down
and don't nov 1 want to sleep. Don't
you make a bit of noise, if you want mt
to live.p
And Mrs. Spoopendyke held her breath
and never rustled a feather while her hus.
band lay and glared out of the window fol
an hour and a halE-BroOklyn Eagle.