The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1888-04-14

btuTIcu " my leCly uhl SOhotAOuSi
half ashamed, as my mother-in-law's
soft black silk dress rustled into the
room.
Now be it understood that my mother
in-law is the dearest old lady in the
world, with silver curls on each side OF
her fresh face, loving hazel eyes and the
purest of contralto voices. She isn't a
bit like the popular ideas OF mothers-in-
law. She never NEEDLES, she never
scolds, she never interfereS-in short she
is just a nonpareil among women. And
in the six months experience of mymar-
ried life, l had already learned to love
and trust her from the very bottom OF
my heart.
Hooked dolorously up into my moth
er-in-law's face.
otis Jerome's shirts again." sobbcd l.
"What's the trouble with them? No,
Jessie, don't cry, but answer me" and
she prisoned my hand in hers, and
passed one arm encouragingly around
my waist.
'He-he says-they ft-like meal
bags" | contrived to utter, with my face
hidden on Mrs. Lees shoulder. "And
Pm sure-I cut them-by the very
new pattern-and-and triedeVery pans
with them, even stitching the bosoms
myself, because he didn't like machine
work"
"And won't he wear them?"
"No" responded, with fresh burst
OF tears.
"Let me see them," said Mrs. Lee,
senior-and with heart as heavy as
lead l brought out the pile Of discarded
workmanship.
"They are beautifully seamed," said
my mother.in-law, critically examining
them, "and see no reason why they
should not fit? To tell you the truth,
Jessie, think Jerome is little unrea-
sonablew
otis the second-dozeu I've made
without suiting him." sobbedI land he
says he shall ask LeanOTl husband to
get some made at the great downtown
store, where he buys all his things.
And-oh, dear, dear! 1t will mortify
me to death" . :,
"Wait a minute, my dear, wait" said
my mother-in-law, patting my head as
il had been a fractions 4-year-older.
"What was the especial faul. that Je-
rome found with these shirts?"
ooh, everythingW :.
eyes, but in what PARTICULAR"
"Well.n responded, with my finger
to my forehead, trying to remember, The
said they had n swelling in the neck,
and n tWitch in the wristbands, and q
bagginess in the bosoms, and"
"That's quite enough" said my moth
er.in-law, laughing. II can fancy ex-
actly how he said it. I've heard gentle
men complain about their shirt bosoms
before"
Now, to take the reader still further
into my confidence, shirts had been, so
far, at least the Scylla and Charybdis OF
my married life. All l did had been
perfect in Jerome's eyes, until, one I'M
lucky day boldly eSsayed the making
of a set OF shirts. All his words had been
honey and sugar, until, when he tired
on that first shirt, he gave. himself q
jerk around as il he were trying to look
over his left shoulder, and shouted out,
ooh, confound that matchmaking? II
makes me feel as if were going to be
hangedw
"jerome!" cried I, scandalized and in
dignant. 80,
"Do YOU call this thing shirt?
savagely demanded my lord and master
"Don't it set right" l timidly ques
toned.
"setP 1t sets like dish-rag on a goose
berry bush."
ing garment and hurled it across thu
floor.
Ofcourse l was very indignant, and o
course cried my eyes nearly out, ant
then there was n reconciliation, and
proposed to try again, and my HUSBAND
promised to borrow jenkins, pattern
Mrs. jenkins, he said, always hit it TO
7 with the family shirts; and the domes
tic sun shonc brighter than before.
But the second attempt proved a mis-
cradle failure, and this, the "meal-bal
Iera," US my mother-in-law iaughingi.
called it, was the third.
40, ! wouldn'twear myself out trying
Jessie" said Gala Thorne, who had BEEF
married about the time thatl was. ID
MS l do. Buy your husbands shirt
ready made"
/ shook my head, unconquered
though, metaphorically speaking, in tn
dust.
~ won't give it up so, Callal II
woman OF nineteen years and six month
can't make a shirt she had better 6
into IN asylum for inCapables.
"The shirts are all right enough, m
dear; It's the men that are wrong" sal
Gala, laughing.
81 won't admit such q thing Of tn
man I promised at the altar to love
honor and obey"
THAT'S all nonsense and chimera,
said Gala. struggling her shoulders.
Well, let me so on with the story
the shirts,
Mrs. Lee stayed with me until Jerom
came home to tea, little ashamed, as
shrewdIy guessed, OF his recent outbur
OF temper. At all events, he was .
scerene us n May morning now.
1--WE were just discussing the subiet
Of your unfortunate shirts, Jerome,
said his mother, as he was helping ht
the second time to pineapple marmalad
He colored little.
"They do set-like the dickens,p sal
he apologeticaIly. "Rut everyone say
woman can't make q shirt. It ism
your fault, Jessie, dear, and I'm sorry
seemed to be cross about IT.
"Seemcd?' interiected with an VI
raising OF my eyebrows, which carrie
/. unspeakablc meaning with It.
"And ! wish, mother" went Q
Jerome, appearing not to heed my \
: terruption, "you would leave an ord
S at Nicholson 4 Perry's for a dozen shirt
! You know my size. Fourteen and