“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’d got a’ idear what I was goin’ to do.) She said come ahaid. Then I skun out.
First off, I hunted one of them sun-bonnet keeriges. The feller that owned it was h’isted ’way up on top, and he had a face like a cured ham. I tole him who I was goin’ t’ visit, and ast him what ’d be the damage if he carted me that far. He said a two spot ’d do the trick, so I 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 grass sprout under my moccasins. And when I turned up, ’twixt eight and nine o’clock at that recital, I was a-smilin’ like Teddy–and loaded fer bear!
It was at Long-Hair’s shebang. He took me into a big room where they was about a dozen ladies and gents. But I couldn’t hardly see ’em. They was plenty of gas fixin’s, only he had ’em turned ’way down, and little red 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 bunch right good and hard. The women kinda giggled at each other, and the men cocked they eyes at the ceilin’ and put they hands to they mouths. But I wasn’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 passel of what-is-its?”
“Ssh!” she whispers back. “They’ll hear you! Most of ’em is big artists.”