I am not a "flighty, flashy girl," but I crossed the city the other night in a horse-car in which there were twenty men and two women--one of them being myself.

I stood, while the score of men sat and lounged comfortably behind their newspapers.

They were tired after a hard day's work, and would have been wearied still more by standing.

A well woman was worn out and a delicate woman would have been made ill, by this exertion.
My dear boy! let me ask you one question.

Why should you, no matter how tired you are, spring eagerly forward to prevent your sister from lifting a piece of furniture, or carrying a trunk upstairs?
Why not let her do it?
I can imagine your look of indignant surprise.