The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1899-05-14
THE FORE-HANDEDNESS
OF SELMA BATES.
THE CHEERING STORY OF AN OLD
MAID AND HER TROUSsEAU.
BY Caroline Frances Little.


1t was on Selina's 18th birthday and
while she was washing the breakfast
dishes, that her mother said TO her:
Now, Selma, it's about time you began
to make your white clothes; my mother
began hers at 16 and 1 did the same, ev-
rything in dozens with night-caps to
match, and all the sheets and pillow cases
in pairs. I told your pa and he has or
dered a piece of sheeting and another of
cotton cloth of lighter weight, and it's our
birthday present to you for we want you
to have a good settingout."
Selma looked surprised, for there was no
prospect of her marrying, but she said:
Thank you, ma, but I guess there amt
no greet hurry"
mo one knows" replied Mrs. Bates. as
she moulded her loaves of bread, and plac-
ed them in the pans; its alters best to
be forehanded, but l do wish you didn't
favor your pa; it's well enough for a man
to have red hair, but it looks kinder bold
in a woman"
Selma cut out the first garment for her
rousseau that very day, and as the weeks
went by she found a certain pleasure IN
it. When each garment or sheet was fin
ished she laid it away in her mother s
wedding trunk, placing a sprig of laven-
der between the folds.
There was a great deal to be done in
the farmhouse, so that Selma did not find
as much time for her new work as she
wished, but then as she often said,
tThere amt no greet hurry, ma"
When she was nineteen a man came to
the village and opened singing class in
~ II
sist of twelve lessons. Selma and her
friends an Joined, but as she had the
best voice the teacher soon began to show
signs of interest in her, and during the last
few weeks of the term he called for her
and escorted her home from the Glass; on
Sunday evenings he frequently dropped in
ITO take dish of tea," as Mrs. Bates ex-
pressed it, and go to meeting with Selma
The happy girl worked all the time that
she could spare from her other duties upon
her mysterious white garments.
The last night of the singing school
came and as he walked home with her, her
heart beat fast.
Selma" he said, II have been a wanting
to tell you something, but somehow 1 new
er got to it,
Her cheeks grew as red as her hair as
he continued:
I'm agoing to be married in the
spring"
You don't say" she calculated, with a
little nervous gigsle. She wished that she
had begun her Setting out" when she>was
sixteen, as her grandmother and mother
had done.
YES" said he, "she and have been
keeping company for a long spell back.
She's right pretty, with brown hair, but
her voice amt as strong as yours; she
works in the cotton mills up to Lowell,
and 1 guess that's bad for her throat"
So that romance ended, but still Selma
sewed on, for it takes a long time to make
everything In sets of dozens with night
caps to match.
When she was 27 her mother died, and
her last injunction was:
Don't wear any of them garments; your
unbleached is good enough, and add to
your stock as you get time. It's alters
best to be fofe-handed."
When she was 81 her father died. and
the farm was hers; but OH the lonel-
ness of her life. Hiram, 'the hired help"
whom her father had employed carried
on the farm for her.
The years came and went until at last
her 37th birthday dawned. She went up
to her trunk that day (she always aired
the contents of it twice a year. and re-
newed the sprigs of lavender
Twenty years ago to-day" she said.
rather bitterly. as she unfolded the gar
ment, Il cut out the first one and thew
are all DONE and have been for wears
with caps to match! Twenty yearsl Bur
as mother said, It's alters best to be fore
handed and I'm that if 1 ain't nothing
else"
When she was washing the few tea
dishes that night, she heard a knock a,
ho
the roller, she opened it, and there stood
Silas McCade, who had recently returned
from the Far West
well, Silas, walk right in and set vbile
I do up my dishes. 1 am awful glad 10
see you"
Law, now, Selma, this ere does lool,
homelike! I've come to settle down ana
SO I'm calm round to see the neigh
bors'
That's right. silas," she added. "and
you must feel kinder lonely now thai
Sairy Ann is dead"
Yes; l lost her nearly a year ago and
as we never had no children I'm au
alone" al
That's hard lines for you, Silas"
Yes. and your pa and ma is gone. too.
amt they?" 'e' 'oo'
Yes, I'm all alone" she replied
When ne rose to go he said: "Wel1 r,ut
drop in again, Selma; I'm staying A.
Cousin Pete's, and it's none too IiveIv
there" "Nely
DO call again" she said, sweetlv
On the way over to the farm tba No..
night he thought to himself: "sairv An
never had no faculty for gettin' on ana
Selma seems real fore-handed; the wear is
nearly up, and I'd kinder like to be -
ried when the anniversary comes ronndn
He found everything very neat IN ~
little kitchen, and Selma seemed glad No
see him. During The evening he drew his
splint-bottomed chair up close to hers ana
said: anu
say Selma the year is nearly IN.
could you get ready by that timer" ~
How soon is 1t, Silas?"
Bout ten days, reckon; alters csred
for you Selma, in school more than ala
Tor Sairy Ann, and wish hedn't minded
your hair then; think it's real pea RI ~.
and somehow Sairy Ann never seemed ~
have any faculty for gettin ON ~
Wen l guess I'm forehanded enough
to get ready in that time" replied ~
blushing Selma. 'ne