farmer.

"No, sir," answered the boy, "I didn't ask him to."

"Why not?" inquired the farmer.

"Well, I told him who it was that wanted it"--the boy hesitated.

"Well?" demanded the farmer, impatiently.

"Well, then, he told me yours," explained the boy.

Maybe the working woman, looking for a husband, and not merely a
livelihood, may end by formulating standards of her own. She may end
by demanding the manly man and moving about the world, knowing
something of life, may arrive at the conclusion that something more
is needed than the smoking of pipes and the drinking of whiskies and
sodas. We must be prepared for this. The sheltered woman who learnt
her life from fairy stories is a dream of the past. Woman has
escaped from her "shelter"--she is on the loose. For the future we
men have got to accept the emancipated woman as an accomplished fact.

[The ideal World.]

Many of us are worried about her. What is going to become of the
home? I admit there is a more ideal existence where the working
woman would find no place; it is in a world that exists only on the
comic opera stage. There every picturesque village contains an equal
number of ladies and gentlemen nearly all the same height and weight,
to all appearance of the same age. Each Jack has his Jill, and does