Mr Spoopendyke’s Indisposition.

Gisborne Standard and Cook County Gazette, Volume II, Issue 266, 28 February 1889, Page 4

Mr Spoopendyke’s Indisposition.

‘That's better, groaned Mr Spoopendyke, as his wife arranged the cool pillows under his head ; “ now I can die looking out upon the trees and the sky,’ and Mr Spoopendyke assumed a resigned expression of visage, and gazed out or the corner of his eye upon a bare ailanthus tree and about half a dozen telegraph wires. * Oh you won’t die,’ said Mrs Spoopendyke, cheerfully. You’re only a little sick, and you’ll get over it.’ ‘That’s all you know about it,’ marled Mr Spoopendyke. ‘To hear you talk 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, I tell ye, and I don’t want any fooling about

‘ Well, well,’ cooed Mrs Spoopendyke, ‘don’t excite yourself. Keep quiet and you’ll soon get all right again.’ ‘ Much you care,’ muttered Mr Spoopendyke, turning on his side and resting his cheek on his hand, an attitude generally assumed by martyred spirits on the approach of dissolution. ‘Will you take some drops again,’ asked Mrs Spoopendyke, ‘ it’s time for them.’

‘No, I won’t. They’re nasty. I have not had anything but drops for a week. From the way you administer drops one would think you was the trap door of a hanging machine. Give me some figs? * But there ain’t any figs dear. I will go and get you some,’ said Mrs Spoopendyke. ‘lhat is it,’ growled her husband, ‘you only want an excuse to leave me to die alone. Why haven’t you got some figs. You might know I’d want Got any citron ?’ * No, I haven’t any citron, but I wont be more than a minute away, and I’ll get you whatever fruit you want.’ * ou ’d get it I’ve no doubt. What you want is a rail fence around you and a gate off the hinges to be a dod gashed orchard. Go and fetch me some strawberries.'

‘ Why strawberries are eut of season. There aint none in the market now.*

‘I supposed you would say that, moaned Mr Spoopendyke. ‘ You’ve always got some excuse. If I should die you would have some apology ready. Give me something to take the taste out of my mouth. ‘What would you like dear ?’ asked Mrs Spoopendyke. ‘ Soap, dod gash it, give me soap if you cant think of anything else,’ demanded Mr Spoopendyke. ‘ May be you aint got any soap. At least you wouldnt have if I wanted it. Got any cherries ?’ ‘Nothey are out of season, too. There some nice grapes in the hothouse.

‘ Dont want any measly grapes. If I can’t have what I want 1 dont want it. Where’s those drops. Why dont you give me my medicine ? Going to let me die for the want of a little attention? Want the life insurance dont ye ? Going to give me those drops before the next election ?’ Mrs Spoopendyke ladled out the dose, half of which went down Mr Spoopendyke’s gullet and half over his nightshirt. ‘That’s it, he howled, spill them. They’re for external application. Put them anywhere. Pour them up the chimney,’ and Mr Spoopendyke fired the spoon across the room. ‘ Have a piece of orange to take the taste away,’ asked Mrs Spoopendyke, pleasantly. ‘ No, 1 wont,’ objected her spouse. Give me a piece of musk melon. ‘ I dont believe there are any musk melons about now,’ sighed Mrs Spoopendyke. ‘Of course you don't, said Mr Spoopendyke. ‘ They don’t have anything when Im sick. Its a wonder they have house. Its a miracle that they have beds. I’m astonished to think they have doctors and drug stores. I’ve got to hurry up and die, or they wont have any undertakers, or coffins, or graves. Gimme a piece of orange, will ye ? S'pose I’m going to lie here and chaw on the taste of thoke drops for a month ?’ ‘ You’d like those grapes,’ suggested his his wife.

No, I would’ntr-either. What do you want me to eat them for ? Got any interest in the trade ? Anybody pay you to make me eat them ? 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 even have a pill when I feel like it,’ and Mr .'Spoopendyke groaned in spirit and looked dismal ‘ Now sit down and don’t move. I want to sleep. Don’t you make a bit of noise, if you want me to live.’

And Mrs Spoopendyke held he? breath and never rustled a feather while her husband lay and glared out of the window for an hour and a half —Brooklyn Eagle.