WHERE’S THE SHEARS.

Western Star, Issue 346, 24 April 1880, Page 7

WHERE’S THE SHEARS.

Mrs Major Wheelock, wife of thafold pioneer and eminently respected citizen of that Dame, leaned over .the banister the other morning and answered him ; “ The shears ? ■“ Why, they are right <d,own here sp.mewhere. I was using them not five minutes ago. _ The major wanted them to trim off a horse blanket at the barn, and be marched into the sitting room and up to the family work-basket. Of course they vyere there. He tumbled a ball of yarn, a paper of pins, a half-made garment, a button-box and a pin-cushion off on the floor, made a dive among bodkins, worsted, threads and darning-needles, and the shears did not turn pp. He stood the work-basket on its head, but it was no good. Then he went over to the what-not and raked off three or four photographs, rattled down a lot of shells and knocked off two books, but the shears were not there. He was red in the face as he went into .the hail find called out: “I can’t find hide nor hair of ’em, and I don’t believe yon ever had any ! ” “ How look again—that’s a good man,” she replied, “ I know they are right there.’'’ The major got down on hands andknees and looked under the lounge. No shears. Then he stooql up and looked op the mantel. The nearest approach to shears there was a bent hairpin. Then he walked around and surveyed each window-sill and gave the workbasket another racket. “I tell you there ain’t no shears here, or else I’m blinder’n a bat! ” he shouted from the hall, after he had given the balk tree a looking over. «Why, Major, how impatient you

are!” , “There’s no impatience about it! 1 tell you the shears ain’t here! No one can ever find anything in this house! I had to look a straight hour the other day to find the gimlet!” “ If you don’t see them in the bedroom I’ll come down.”

He entered the bedroom, glanced over the bureau and stand, pulled the shams off the pillows, and whirl 'd tho pillows around, and then took down a hair-oil bottle from a bracket and looked into it. The shears were not in the bottle, nor anywhere ©he. Stay! They might have been carried under the bed by that mysterious household tide which carries articles from room to room in an invisible manner. He crawled under bumped his head on the slats, got dust in his throat, and was backing out with blood iu his eye, when his wife called out: “ Why, what on earth are you after?” “After 1 After!” he shouted, as he almost coughed his head off—“ I'm after them infernal shears !”

“ Why, here they are! They were lying in my sewing chair, right in plain sight.” J don’t believe it—l’ll never believe it. I looked into that chair over ten thousand times !”

“ Well, there they are.” * It’s no such thing ! You’ve lost ’em, or pawned ’em, or traded ’em for gum. You’ve no more order in your hou/o than an old cooper shop !” He walked past the chair into the hall and was going out, when she called ; “ Hear, aren’t you going to take the shears?”

“ Shears ? What shears ? I’m going over to the store and buy me pair ot* shears, and if jpiy human beiug in th|s house ever puts a finger on ’em they’ll suffer for it! I’ll see if I can’t have a pair of shears in my house after being married tor upward of forty-three years!” And fie pulled down his hat and slammed the door with all his might as he went out.