“I don’t mind,” I answers.
It was from her–I’d know her little dinky l’s anywheres. I helt it fer a minute–’twixt my two hands. It was like I had her fingers, kinda. Then, “S’pose they ain’t nothin’ fer me t’day,” I says.
“No, Cupid,–sorry. Next time, I reckon.”
“Wal,” I goes on “would you mind lettin’ me take this over t’ Rose?”
“Why, no,–go ahaid.”
I went, quick as ever my laigs could carry me, the letter tucked inside my shirt.
Rose read it out loud t’ me, whilst I helt the kid. It wasn’t a long letter, but, somehow, I never could recollect afterwards just the exac’ words that was in it. I drawed, though, that Mace was havin’ a way-up time. She was seein’ all the shows, she said, meetin’ slathers of folks, and had a room with a nice, sorta middle-aged lady, in a place where a lot of young fellers and gals hung out t’ study all kinds of fool business. Some of ’em she liked, and some she didn’t. Some took her fer a greeney, and some was fresh. But she was learnin’ a pile–and ’d heerd Susy’s Band!
“Is that all?” I ast when Rose was done.
“Yas, Cupid.”
“Nothin’ about me?”