She lent down towards me a little. "You been awful good to me," she
says. "_I_ know. It was _you_ got all them votes. Hairoil said so."
"Don't mention it."
"And--and"--I heerd her breath 'way deep, kinda like a sob--"you
_ain't_ the homeliest man! you _ain't!_ Aw, it was _mean_ of 'em! And
it hurt----"
"No, it didn't--please, _I_ don't mind."
"It hurt--me."
That put the cheek of ten men into me. I Straightened up, and I lifted
my chin. "Why, Gawd _bless_ you, little gal!" I says. "It's all
_right._"
Her one hand was a-restin' on the pommel. I reached up--only a
stay-chain could a' helt me back then--and took it into both of mine.
Say! did you ever holt a little, flutterin' bird 'twixt you' two palms?
"Macie," I says, "Macie Sewell." And I pressed her hand agin my face.
She lent towards me again. It wasn't more'n a soft breath, and I could
hardly hear. But nobody but me and that little ole bronc of hern'll ever
know what it was she said.