chen door, which was the
one most used by the family--and nibbled the tip off one of the pencils
like any school-girl. For ten minutes he bluffed himself into believing
that he was trying to think of a title; the plain truth is, he was
wondering if Mona would go for a ride that afternoon and if so, might he
venture to suggest going with her.

He thought of the crimply waves in Mona's hair, and pondered what
adjectives would best describe it without seeming commonplace.
"Rippling" was too old, though it did seem to hit the case all right.
He laid down the pad and nearly stood on his head trying to reach his
Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms without getting out of his chair.
While he was clawing after it--it lay on the floor, where he had thrown
it that morning because it refused to divulge some information he
wanted--he heard some one open and close the kitchen door, and came near
kinking his neck trying to get up in time to see who it was. He failed
to see anyone, and returned to the dictionary.

"'Ripple--to have waves--like running water.'" (That was just the way
her hair looked, especially over the temples and at the nape of her
neck--Jove, what a tempting white neck it was!) "Um-m. 'Ripple; wave;
undulate; uneven; irregular.'" (Lord, what fools are the men who write
dictionaries!) "'Antonym--hang the antonyms!"

The kitchen door slammed. He craned again. It was Jack--going to town
most likely. Thurston shrewdly guessed that Mrs. Stevens leaned far more
upon Mona than she did upon Jack, although he could hardly accuse her
of leaning on anyone. But he observed that the men looked to her for
orders.

He perceived that the point was gone from his pencil, and proceeded to
sharpen it. Then he heard Mona singing in the kitchen, and recollected
that Mrs. Stevens had promised him warm doughnuts for supper. Perhaps
Mona was frying them at that identical moment--and he had never seen
anyone frying doughnuts. He caught up his cane and limped out to
investigate. That is how much his heart just then was set upon writing a
story that would breathe of the plains.

One great hindrance to the progress of his story was the difficulty he
had in selecting a hero for his heroine. Hank Graves suggested that he
use Park, and even went so far as to supply Thurston with considerable
data which went to prove that Park would not be averse to figuring in
a love story with Mona. But Thurston was not what one might call
enthusiastic, and