“Sorry you look at it that way, boss.”
“And so you got the idear into that peanut haid of yourn”–he was sarcastic now–“that you could marry my gal! Honest, I ain’t met a bigger idjit ’n you in ten years.”
“No man but Mace’s paw could say that t’ me safe.”
“Why,” he goes on, “you could just about be President of the United States as easy as you could be the husband of this gal. M’ son, I think I tole you on one occasion that you’d play Cupid just oncet too many.”
“That’s what you did.”
“This is it. And, also, I tole you that the smarty who can allus bring other folks t’gether never can hitch hisself.”
“You got a good mem’ry, Sewell.”
Mace broke in then–feard they’d be trouble, I reckon. “Please let’s cut this short,” she says. “The only thing I want Alec to remember is that I ain’t a-goin’ t’ be bossed by no man.”
Sewell patted her on the shoulder. “That’s my gal a-talkin’!” he says. “Bully fer you!”
“All right, Mace,” I says, “a-all right.” And I took up my Stetson.