The Tupelo journal., 1917-11-02
His Moods
Mr.. Jobson was pulling 'em on.

"These DANCED pants need pressing"
he grunted, mildly enough for him.
"Yes?' said Mrs Jobson, surveying
''them" critically with her head on n
side. ''They do need a crease, don't
they? BY the way, I notice that a
tailor and clothes repairer has moved
into that little shop down the street
that has been vacant so long, and he
presses trousers for a quarter"
Trousers, hey?' barked Mr.. Jobson.
'Who said anything about trousers?
You can dispense with that B%ostonese
stuff, if you please. | said pants, and
pants is what I meant. And what's a
clothes cobbler down the street got to
do with what I'm talking about, any,
how? / said that these pants needed
pressing. / didn't say that they re-
CURED the services of a tailor. There's
an answer to that. Put your mind to
work and maybe you can guess it."
"Well," began Mrs. Jobson, "the
charge for pressing a pair of TIA
pair of pantaloons is So"
"Oh, pantaloons?" snapped Mr.. job
son. Cant fetch yourself to say
pants, Ell? Too bad about you, it sure
is. Pretty n%icey-nicey all of a sudden
aren't your
ooh, I don't mind pants in the least"
said Mrs. Jobson with a smile. "One's
use of words, Of course, is purely n
matter of habit. L"
"Well, you don't have to nudge in
any cracks about my use of words, Ell
ther," cut in Mr.. Jobson. "But wait
a minute. Stop this business of trying
TO .shunt me off on a side line"
"Well, as l was saying" put in Mrs.
Jobson, "that new little place where
the tailor has moved in is SO handy
and only a quarter for pressing a pair
of"
"Oh, that's it, is it?' chopped Mr..
Jobson, Handy, hey? Only a quarter,
eh. Picking it kind o. soft for yourself
these days, aren't you? Getting tired?
Suffering from that thing they call the
sleeping sickness? Seems to me, now
/ come to think of it, that way back in
the antique years, when the world was
young and icthysaurians and diplidoc-
uses and flying dragons and things
were prowling around, you used to
press my pants yourself. Kind of a
hard stretch of memory to bark back
to this remote period, I'll admit. But
1 sure do remember, as hiking back to
some previous incarnation, that you
did press my pants a few times m
where around the glacial epoch. Re.
member it?"
"Why, of course, L pressed that very
pair of trousers-I mean pants-only
q week or so ago." replied Mrs. job
son. But Mrs. Spunjerine, next door,
borrowed my ironing board q few days
ago and hasn't brought it back yet, and
then when that little tailor moved into
the neighborhood-why, l thought that
maybe you'd rather"
II don't know anything about any
little tailors, or big t~ailors, either"
growled Mr.. Jobson. I've managed to !
stumble along In my mean, ornery,
squalid kind of a way for a good many
years without any big or little tailors
in this n%eighborhood to hold up my
hands Or guide my footsteps, and /
guess I'll try to plug along without
such assistance from now until the
finish. The point is this: Am l to
understand from you harping upon
the contiguity of this little tailor as
you call him, that you fatty, firmly, abb
sOlutely and unqualifiedly refuse, de-
cline and reject the idea that you're
ever going to press another pair OF
pants for me? Is that, pray, the i'm
preston that you are seeking to con-
vey?"
Certainly not" replied Mrs. Jobson,
smiling again. 'It's not the least trou-
bic in the world to press your tr-pants,
only I thought that when they can be
pressed so conveniently and lneXpen-
sively-only % cents"
"That's the nine milliOnth time
you've roped in that reference to %
cents" snOrted Mr.. JObsOn. Cant
you think of any new stuff? Why have
you got to chirp and chirp and chirp
on a phrase once you get started on
1T? But, since you're such a parokeet
with reference to that % cents thing,
permit me to say this: It's not a mat
ter of % cents at all. It's a matter Of
principle. It's a matter of whether
you are going to gradually give up do
ing so much as a hands turn for me.
It's a matter of whether you are go
saz-a~ols.ollxx - 90 xrnla No d0laht l