Part 18 (1/2)

”Wal, honey, what you _want_ the teacher fer?”

She stopped, and up went that pert, little haid. ”You recollect what Doctor Simpson said about my voice that night at the social?” she begun.

”This teacher says _the same thing._”

Like a flash, I _re_called what _Hairoil_ 'd tole me. ”Mace,” I says, ”I want t' ast you about that. A-course, I know it ain't so. But Hairoil says you got pictures of actresses and singers tacked up in you' room--just one 'r two.”

”Yas,” she answers; ”that's straight. What about it?”

”It's all right, I guess. But the ole son-of-a-gun got the idear, kinda, that you was thinkin' some of--of the East.”

”Alec,” she says, frank as could be, ”yesterday Doctor Simpson got a letter from Noo York. He'd writ a big teacher there, inquirin' if I had a chanst t' git into op'ra--_grand_ op'ra--and the teacher says yas.”

I couldn't answer nothin'. I just sit there, knocked plumb silly, almost, and looked at a big rose in the carpet. _Noo York!_

She brung her hands t'gether. ”Why not?” she answers. ”It'll give me the chanst I want. If I'm a success, you could come on too, Alec.

Then we'd marry, and you could go along with me as my manager.”

I looked at her. I was hurt--hurt plumb t' the quick, and a little mad, too. ”I _see_ myself!” I says. ”Travel along with you' poodle.

Huh! And you wearin' circus clothes like that Miss Marvellous Murray, and lettin' some feller kiss you in the play. Macie,”--and I meant what I said--”you can just put the hull thing right to one side.

I--won't--_have_--it!”

She set her lips tight, and her face got a deep red.

”So _this_ is the way you keep you' word!” she says. ”A minute ago, you said you wasn't goin' t' try to run me no more. Wal,--you wasn't in earnest. I can see that. 'Cause here's the same thing over again.”

The door into the ole man's bedroom opened then, and he come walkin'

out. ”You two make a thunderin' lot of noise,” he begun. ”What in the d.i.c.kens is the matter?”

Mace turned to him, face still a-blazin'. ”Alec's allus tryin' t'

run me,” she answers, ”and I'm gittin' plumb tired of it.”

Sewell's mouth come open. ”Run you,” he says. ”Wal, some while back he done all the runnin' he's ever a-goin' t' do in _this_ house. And he don't do no more of it. By what right is he a-interferin' now?”

I got to my feet. ”_This_ right, boss:” I says, ”I love Macie.”

He begun to kinda swell--gradual. And if a look could 'a' kilt me, I'd 'a' keeled over that second.

”You--love--Macie!” he says slow. ”Wal , I'll be darned if you haven't got _cheek!_”

”Sorry you look at it that way, boss.”

”And so you got the idear into that peanut haid of yourn”--he was sarcastic now--”that you could marry my gal! Honest, I ain't met a bigger idjit 'n you in ten years.”

”No man but Mace's paw could say that t' me safe.”

”Why,” he goes on, ”you could just about be President of the United States as easy as you could be the husband of this gal. M' son, I think I tole you on one occasion that you'd play Cupid just oncet too many.”

”That's what you did.”