“What kind of a button?” he asked the lad.
“A—a sus-sus-sus-shoe button!”
The final word came out in a burst of emphasis, and Fibsy, raised a defiant, determined face, as if expecting opposition. And he got it!
“Now, I protest!” said Judge Hoyt, and he was actually laughing; “this mendacious youth told me about that button some time ago; only then, he said it was a suspender button! Didn’t you, Fibsy?”
“Yep;” was the sulky reply, “and I came near callin’ it that this time, too!”
“Well, why not? or why not a coat button?”
“That’s it!” and Fibsy’s eyes sparkled; “it was a coat button! I remember now! It was a coat button!”
Hoyt laughed out in triumph. “And tomorrow it will be a waist-coat button,” he said; “and the day after, a sleeve button!”
“Yep,” said Fibsy staring at him; “Yep, most prob’ly! anyway, it’s a clue, that’s what it is!”
The audience shook with laughter. The funny shock-headed boy was out of place in this serious affair, but he was there, and his comical face was irresistibly humorous.