est approach a shopper ever sees to this is a girl leaning in a tired way against one of the shelves. Do you blame these girls for getting so tired that they lose hope? Do you blame them when, seeing so little of happiness themselves, they think God has forgotten them? You cannot, my friend, you cannot.
HER SOCIAL LIFE
My girl is a social little creature. At home the girls used to come in of an evening and talk and laugh, then some sweethearts would appear, there would be more talking and laughing, maybe a little singing, and possibly a lively game or two. What social life has my girl now? The other night some friends came to see her. They were taken into the parlor, which is a stiff, bare-looking room, with chairs and sofas arranged against the wall, and a black marble table, which looks like a bier, in the centre. Other people were there, and everybody whispered when he talked; it was not very cheerful. It failed to make a man think that a girl in that place might know how to arrange for a home, or enjoy the delights of a home nest. But what can my girl do? In time, if she has a sweetheart, he and she both get to understand that if they want to see each other they must go out to do it, and going out night after night for this purpose does not always tend to
