“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.