As I come clost, acrosst the curtains, back'ards and for'ards,
back'ards and for'ards, I could see her shadda pass. But when I rapped,
she pulled up; then, she opened the door.
"Honey," I says, "can I come in?"
Her eyes was red; she'd been cryin'. But, aw! she was just as nice and
sweet as she could be. "Yas, Alec, come in," she says.
"Little gal," I begun, "I want t' tell you I done wrong to kick
about that greaser, yas, I did. And fetchin' you home that-a-way wasn't
right."
"Never mind--I wanted t' come anyhow."
"Thank y' fer bein' so kind. And I ain't never goin' to try to run
you no more."
"I'm glad of that No gal likes t' be bossed."
"Just give me another chanst. Just fergive me this oncet."
She smiled, her eyes shinin' with tears. "I do," she says; "Alec,
I do."
The next second, I had her helt clost in my arms, and her pretty haid
was agin my breast. Aw, it was like them first days once more. And all
the hurt went of a suddent, and the air cleared kinda--as if a storm'd
just passed. My little gal!
Pretty soon, (I was settin' on the organ-stool, and she was standin' in
front of me, me holdin' her hands) I says, "They _is_ one thing--now
that I've tole you I was wrong--they is _just_ one thing I'm goin' to
ast you t' do as a favour. If you do it, things 'll go smooth with us
from now on. It's this, little gal: Cut out that Doctor Bugs."
"I know how you don't like him," she answers; "and you're right.
'Cause he shore played you a low-down trick at that Medicine Show. But,
Alec, he brings my music-teacher."
"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 dickens 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?"