The Summer Girl

It Is safe to allege that the average summer Irl in this country has been doing all she ought to do in the -svay of dancing, prancing, gadding, going, working, and generally apending her vital powers in the autumn, winter and spring immediately preceding, and conseqiiently when summer comes needs, quite as much as her parents, physical, mental and moral ozone. But what does she prefer to do? Whither is she bent on leading her father by the nose with the assistance of her mother? To various places, according to her special predilection, and the farthest limit of the parental purse. If possible, to one of the gayest watering places, where she hopes to bathe, play tennis, walk, talk and drive during the day; paddie, stroll or sit out during the evening and dance nntil 12 o'clock at night two or three times a week. Else to some much advertised mountain cataract or lake resort, to lead a stagnant hotel corridor and piazza life, in the fond hope of seeing the vlvidly imagined Him alight from the stage coach some Saturday night. Meanwhile she is one of three-score forlorn girls who haunt the office and make eyes at the hotel clerk. The summer girl has a mania for the mer hotel. It seems to open to her radiant possibilities. She ktndles at the mention of a hop in August, and if she Is musical the tingle of her pianoplaylng reverberates throHgh the house all day until the other boarders are driven nearly crazy. And so it goes all summer. When autumn comes and the leaf is about to fall and Dorothy returns to town, what has she to show for it? A little tan and callous heart, a promised winter correspondence with the hotel clerk, new 3lang, some knack at banjo-playing, and considerable uncertainty in her mind as to whom she is engaged to, or whether she is engagejl at all.