CHAPTER TEN
MACIE AND THE OP'RA GAME
THE street Mace lived on was turrible narra. Why, if a long-horn had'a' been druv through it, he could 'a' just give a wiggle of hishaid and busted all the windas in the block. And her house! It was nighas dark as the inside of a cow, and I _judged_ they was a last-year'scabbage a-wanderin' 'round somewheres. Wal, never mind. Two shakesof a lamb's tail, and I'd clumb about a hunderd steps and--
"How are y', little gal?"
"Alive and kickin', Alec."
She ast me in. A kinda ole lady was over to one side, cookin'. At atable was two gents, the one young, with a complexion like thebottom-side of a watermelon; the other about fifty, with a longcoat, a vest all over coffee, and no more chin'n a gopher.
"Mrs. Whipple," says Macie, "Mister Lloyd."
"Ma'am, I'm tickled t' death."
"Hair Von" (somethin'-r'-other), "Mister Lloyd." (Don't wonder shecalled him "_Hair._" By thunder! he had a mane two feet long!) "AndMister Jones." (I ketched _that_ name O. K.)
"Mister Lloyd," says the ole lady, "will you have some breakfast?"
I felt like sayin' they 'd likely be blamed little fer _me,_ 'causethem two gezabas was just a-_hoppin'_ it in to 'em. But I only answers,"Thank y', I just et in one of them bong-tong rest'rants that's downin a cellar, and so, ma'am, my breadbasket's plumb full."
I sit down on a trunk (it had a tidy over it, but I knowed it was a_trunk_ all right), and Macie, she sit down byside me.
"Alec," she begun,--say! she looked mighty sweet!--"t'-night isa' awful important night in my life. I been a-studyin' with HairVon" (you know), "and now I'm a-goin' to have a _re_cital. And whatd' you think? Seenyer" (I fergit who, this minute), "the grea-a-atimpressyroa, is comin' to hear me. And he's goin' to put me intogrand op'ra."
"You don't say!"
"Yas," says Long-hair, swellin' up. "The Seenyer is my friend, andany favour----"
I turned and looked clost at Macie. Her face was all alive, she was sohappy, and her eyes was dancin'. "You're a-goin' t' make you' bigstab t'-night," I says. "Wal, I shore wish you luck."
Then I took another look at that Perfessor--and of a suddent I begun towonder _if all the cards was on the table._ 'Cause he was too oily to begenuwine. And I'd saw his stripe afore--"even up on the red and white,five to one on the blue, and ten to one on the numbers."
"She'll be a second Patty," he says, puttin' out a bread-hooker fermore feed.
"I'll take another slice of toast," says Melon-face, "and a' aigand a third cup--it's _so_ good, Miss Sewell, I'm really _ashamed,_yas, I _am._"
After that, I didn't say much--just plumb petryfied watchin' them twogents shovel. Talk about you' grizzly in the springtime! And you betthey was no gittin' shet of 'em till they couldn't hole no more.
But, fin'lly, they moseyed, and me and Macie and the ole lady had achin. It come out that Long-hair (_and_ his friend) showed up ev'rymornin'.
"And allus gits his breakfast," I says.
"Wal, in Noo York, folks drop 'round that--a-way," she answers."It's Bohemia."
"Bohemia--you mean a kinda free hand-out."
"Alec! _No!_ Bohemians divvy with each other."
"Seem's t' me Macie Sewell does _most_ of the divvyin'."
"You don't understand," she says. "People with artistic temper'mentsdon't think about such--such common things."
"No? Just the same, that artistic team of yourn was shore stuck onboiled aigs."
That ruffled her up some. "Alec," she says, "you mustn't run downthe Perfessor. He's a big musician."
"Wal," I answers, "if hair makes a big musician, 'Pache Sam oughtalead the band."
"And he's been awful good to me. Why, he's let go dozens and _dozens_of rich pupils to come here ev'ry day and give me my lesson."
"Fer how much?"
"What?" She got red.
"Fer how much?" I ast again.
"Five dollars," she answers.
I snickered.
"But he charges all the others _ten,_" she puts in quick. "He comedown in the price 'cause he was so wrapped up in my _ca_reer."
"Money lastin'?" I ast, and looked at the ole lady.
She give me the high sign.
But Macie answered cheerful. "It's carried me good so far," she says;"and after t'-night I can stand on my own feet."
"Reckon you won't mind my comin' t' hear you," I says. ('Cause I'dgot a' idear what I was goin' to do.) She said come ahaid. Then I skunout.
First off, I hunted one of them sun-bonnet keeriges. The feller thatowned it was h'isted 'way up on top, and he had a face like a curedham. I tole him who I was goin' t' visit, and ast him what 'd be thedamage if he carted me that far. He said a two spot 'd do the trick, soI clumb in, he give his broomtail a lick, and we was off in a bunch.
Wal, fer the balance of that day, you can bet I didn't let no grasssprout under _my_ moccasins. And when I turned up, 'twixt eight andnine o'clock at that _re_cital, I was a-smilin' like Teddy--and loadedfer bear!
It was at Long-Hair's shebang. He took me into a big room where they wasabout a dozen ladies and gents. But I couldn't hardly see 'em. They wasplenty of gas fixin's, only he had 'em turned 'way down, and littlered parasol-jiggers over 'em. And they was some punk-sticks a-burnin'in a corner.
If you want t' ast _me,_ I think I hit the funny spot of that bunchright good and hard. The women kinda giggled at each other, and the mencocked they eyes at the ceilin' and put they hands to they mouths. But Iwasn't nigh as big a freak to them as they was t' _me!_
"Say!" I says to Macie, 'way low, "where 'd you round up this passelof what-is-its?"
"Ssh!" she whispers back. "They'll hear you! Most of 'em is bigartists."
"No!" I got turrible solemn. "Have they brought they temper'mentswith 'em?"
She laughed.
"Now, don't devil me, Alec," she says. "But honest, ain't thisBohemian atmosphere just grand?"
"Wal," I says, sniffin' it, "it reminds _me_ of a Chinee wash-house."
That wasn't the worst of it. The men was tankin' up like the OleHarry--right in front of the women! And on beer! What d' you think!_Beer!_
And the ladies--say! if they was t' wear them kind of dresses out ourway (not more'n a pocket-handkerchief of cloth in the waist, that'sstraight), why, they 'd git run in to the cooler _shore_. And, bythunder! some of 'em was smokin'! _Smokin'!_ And they wasn't agreaser gal amongst 'em, neither.
"What kind of a place I got in to?" I ast Macie. Gee! I felt turrible.
"Ssh! Long-hair is goin' to play a pyano piece he made up a-a-all byhisself."
And he done it. First, he goes soft, fingerin' up and down, and movin'from side t' side like his chair was hot. Then, he took a runnin'jump at hisself and worked harder. But they wasn't the sign of atune--just jiggles. Next, by jingo! it was help you'self to the gravy!He everlastin'ly lambasted them keys, and knocked the lights plumbouten that pore instrument.
Jumpin' buffalo! I got t' laughin' so I kinda tipped over again a'iron thing that was set clost to the wall, and come blamed nigh burnin'the hand offen me.
When I come to, he was done and down, and a bleached lady, so whitewashedand painted she was plumb disguised, was settin' afore the pyano. Thenup gits a tall gal, skinny, long neck, forrid like a fish, hair thathadn't been curried since week a-fore last.
She begun t' sing like a dyin' calf--eyes shut, and makin' faces.But pretty soon, she took a _new_ holt, and got to goin' uphill anddown, faster 'n Sam Hill; then 'round and 'round, like a dawg afterits tail; then hiccupin'; then--she kinda shook herself--and let out alast whoppin' beller.
"Macie," I says, "do you have t' herd with this outfit _reg'lar?_Why, say, _all_ the wild Injuns ain't out West."
She didn't say nothin'. Pore little gal, she was watchin' the door.And Mister Long-hair? He was wanderin' 'round, lookin' powerfuloneasy. (He'd 'a' better, the scale-haid!) 'Fore long, he goesoutside.
Up gits a short, stumpy feller with a fiddle. All the rest begun t'holl
er and clap. Stumpy, he bowed and flopped his ears, and then he wentat that little, ole fiddle of hisn like he'd snatch it bald-haided.Wal, _that_ was bully!
And now it was Macie they wanted.
"But _he_ ain't here yet," she says.
Long-hair come back just then. "I _re_gret to say, Miss Sewell," hebegun, "that Seenyer" (the impressyroa) "cain't run over t'-night.But he'll be to my next little _re_cital a month from now."
"A _month,_" repeats Macie. Her face fell a mile, and she got as whiteas chalk-rock.
"It's all right," says the Perfessor, rubbin' his hands. "Go ahaidand sing anyhow."
So she stood up, tremblin' a little. Long-hair sit down to the pyano,and this was it!
"Oh, oh, oh, sweet sing bird, Oh, oh, sweet sing bird, ety plump plump----" plump plump Plump
It was a shame. But Macie done her best. When she ended up, they holleredfer more, and Long-hair like to break hisself in two, bowin'.
She just stood there--like she'd been run to ground. The Perfessor wavedhis hand. "The Jew's song from Fowst," he calls out.
I couldn't stand it no longer. I lent towards her. "The Mohawk Vale,"I says; "_please_ sing The Mohawk Vale."
The crowd giggled. The Perfessor, he started to laugh, too--but ketchedmy eye, and coughed.
Macie turned towards him. "A' ole friend; I'd like to," she says. Andsit down to play fer herself.
"Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides On its fair, windin' way to the sea----"
She helt herself straight, and tried t' stick it out. But she couldn't.I seen her shake a little, her voice got husky,--and she bent 'way over,her face in her hands.
"Why, Miss Sewell!" they exclaims, "why, what's the _matter?_"
Then, I gits up. "_Ex_cuse me," I says, "fer puttin' a kibosh onyou' party. But I just want to say that thisBohemia-artistic-temper'ment fandango stands _ad_journed. Ev'rybodyplease vamose--'ceptin' the Perfessor."
My goodness! the pow-wow! But they skedaddled just the same. Then Iturned to Long-hair.
"You' little game is over," I begun. "You don't flimflam this galanother minute. You don't bum offen her fer another meal. You don'tgive her no more of that Patty song-and-dance."
Macie come at me. "Alec! that's insultin'," she says.
The Perfessor starts a-gabblin'.
"Hole you' hosses," I says. "You knowed _all_ the time that theimpressyroa wasn't goin' to show up."
"Miss Sewell, this is _too_ much," says Long-hair, clawin' at his mane.
"They's more a-comin'," I says. "Macie, I was shore somethin' wasskew-gee about this mealy-mouth here, so I had a talk with that Seenyerthis afternoon."
That give Long-hair a jolt. "Impossible!" he yells; "thesecretaries----"
"They _was_ about eight, not to mention some office kids," I says;"but when I give 'em some straight ole Oklahomaw, I went in O. K."
Long-hair backed off, plumb kaflummuxed.
"The Seenyer said he'd heerd of this gent," I goes on, "and wouldn'tlet him learn a _cow_ of hisn to sing. Friend? any little favour? comehere? _Nixey._"
I walks over to him. "Acknowledge the corn, you polecat," I says.
He seen the jig was up. But he made his bluff.
"Miss Sewell, this coarse feller----"
Macie cut in. "It's all so," she says. "You've put me off and _put_me off. All my money's gone. I'd banked on t'-night. And now--what amI goin' to do!" She dropped on to a chair, her face in her hands again.
"My pore little gal!"
She sit up. "No, Alec," she says, "I _ain't_ pore. I've got you,and the best paw a gal _ever_ had, and my home--aw, the _dear_ ole BarY! And, Alec, I'm goin'."
"Goin' where, little gal?"
She come over and stood in front of me, and put her two hands on my arm."Alec," she says, tears and smiles all to oncet, "I'm goin' t'start home to Oklahomaw."
"Start home to Oklahomaw"--them words made me think, of a suddent,about what Billy 'd said t' me at the train. I reached into my insidecoat-pocket. "Wait, little gal," I says, "we must read _this_ first.It's that other letter of Up-State's."
She opened it, her fingers all thumbs, she was so _ex_cited. Andstandin' there byside me, with the Perfessor a-watchin' us from acorner, she begun:
"_'Dear Alec Lloyd----_'Why, it ain't fer _me,_ Alec."
"Go right on, honey."
"Dear Alec Lloyd, you'll git this after Macie's gone to Noo York. Alec, you know now the trip was needful. Do you think you could 'a' helt her if she didn't have her try? Mebbe. But you wouldn't 'a' been happy. All her life she 'd 'a felt sore about that career she give up, and been longin' and longin'.
"And, Macie, 'cause you'll read this, too--now you know they was somethin' else you wanted more 'n a singin' chanst, and you won't hole it agin me fer sayin' I knowed you wouldn't make no go of it. The op'ra game at its best is a five-hunderd-to-one shot. A turrible big herd plays it, the foreigners git the main prizes, and the hull thing's fixed crooked by all kinds of inside pull.
"'Sides, you' voice don't match with crowded streets and sapped-out air. It fits the open desert. Mebbe so many won't listen to it out here, but they'll even things up by the way they'll feel. And this letter is to tell you how I thank y' fer singin' The Mohawk Vale. Gawd bless y', little gal!
"And, Alec, all kinds of good luck to you. What's in this letter ain't much, but it'll be a nest-aig."
Mace peeked inside the envelope. "Why, here's a bill!" she says."Alec!" And she drawed it out.
"A bill?" I turned it over. "Why--why, it's fer five hunderd dollars!Macie!"
Long-Hair got up and started our way, grinnin'.
"But _you_ don't git a cent of it," I says, turnin' on him quick.
He dodged.
"You'd _better_ be keerful," I says. Then, to Macie, "Honey, here'sanother chanst t' make a try. You can git a _good_ teacher, _this_time--yas, that's what I said, Perfessor, _a good teacher_--and you'llbe the biggest singer in Amuricaw _yet._" And I helt the bill out to her.
The only answer she give was t' run to the door and pull at one of themround thing-um-a-jigs that brings a telegraph kid. Next, she come backto a table, found a piece of paper and writ somethin' on it.
"Here, Alec," she says, "here. Read this."
It said:
"Manager Harvey Eatin'-House, Briggs City, Oklahomaw. Please telephone paw that I'm comin' home, and Alec wants back his job."