Jane was the real manager of the ranch, and incidentally of Little Jim,
and her husband was more than content that it should be so.

Occasionally Aunt Jane gave a dance at her home. The young folks of the
valley came, had a jolly time, and departed, some of them on horseback,
some in buckboards, and one or two of the more well-to-do in that small
but aggressive vehicle which has since become a universal odor in the
nostrils of the world.

Little Jim detested these functions which entailed his best clothes and
his best behavior. He did not like girls, and looked down with scorn
upon young men who showed any preference for the sex feminine. He made
but two exceptions to this hard-baked rule: his Aunt Jane, and her young
friend who lived on the neighboring ranch, Dorothy. Little Jim called
her Dorry because it sounded like a boy's name. And he liked Dorry
because she could ride, and shoot with a twenty-two rifle almost as well
as he could. Then, she didn't have a beau, which was the main thing.
Once he told her frankly that if she ever got a beau, he--Jimmy--was
going to quit.

"Quit what?" asked Dorothy, smiling.

Little Jim did not know just what he was going to quit, but he had
imagination.

"Why, quit takin' you out huntin' and campin' and showin' you how to
tell deer tracks from goat's tracks--and everything."

"But I have a beau," said Dorothy teasingly.