But Zenobia was a hundred yards down the road, and she was utterly incapable of getting any further. She trumpeted once or twice, then she wavered like a reed in the wind; her legs weakened under her, and she sank on her side. Her red cap had slipped down, and she picked it up with her trunk, broke its band in a reckless swing that resembled the wave of jovial farewell, gave one titanic hiccup, and fell asleep by the roadside. * * * * * An hour later, Dr. Tibbitt was driving toward Pelion, with Miss Bunker by his side. His horse had been stopped at the toll–gate. He was driving with one hand. Perhaps he needed the other to show how they could have a summer–house in the garden that ran down to the river. * * * * * But it was evening when Zenobia awoke to find her keeper sitting on her head. He jabbed a cotton–hook firmly and decisively into her ear, and led her homeward down the road lit by the golden sunset. That was the end of Zenobia’s infidelity. [Illustration] THE NINE CENT–GIRLS. [Illustration: “_He had an uneasy feeling that they were noticed._”] THE NINE CENT–GIRLS. [Illustration] Miss Bessie Vaux, of Baltimore, paid a visit to her aunt, the wife of the Commandant at old Fort Starbuck, Montana. She had at her small feet all the garrison and some two dozen young ranch–owners, the flower of the younger sons of the best society of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. Thirty–seven notches in the long handle of her parasol told the story of her three months’ stay. The thirty–seventh was final. She accepted a measly Second–Lieutenant, and left all the bachelors for thirty miles around the Fort to mourn her and to curse the United States Army. This is the proem. * * * * * Mr. John Winfield, proprietor of the Winfield Ranch, sat a–straddle a chair in front of the fire in his big living room, and tugged at his handsome black beard as he discussed the situation with his foreman, who was also his confidant, his best friend and his old college mate. Mr. Richard Cutter stood with his back to the fire, twirled a very blonde moustache and smoked cigarettes continually while he ministered to his suffering friend, who was sore wounded in his vanity, having been notch No. 36 on Miss Vaux’s parasol. Dick had been notch No. 1; but Dick was used to that sort of thing. “By thunder,” said Mr. Winfield, “I’m going to get married this year, if I have to marry a widow with six children. And I guess I’ll have to. I’ve been ten years in this girlless wilderness, and I never did know any girls to speak of, at home. Now _you_, you always everlastingly knew girls. What’s that place you lived at in New York State—where there were so many girls?”