I wisht fer a knot-hole that I could crawl through. I wisht a crack in the floor 'd open and let me slip down, no matter if I tumbled into a barrel of _mo_lasses below in Silverstein's. I wisht I was dead, and I wisht the hull blamed bunch of punchers was--Wal, I felt something _turrible_. "Cupid!" "You blamed fool!" "Look at him, boys!" "Take his picture!" "Say! he's a beauty!" Then they hollered like they'd bust they sides, and stomped. I laughed, a-course,--sickish, though. The Judge, I reckon, felt kinda 'shamed of hisself. 'Cause I'd helped to sell a heap of medicine, and he knowed it. "That's all right, Lloyd," he says; "they ain't no present fer you. You can vamose--back stairway." "Whee-oop!" goes the boys. I seen her start down then. Billy and his wife got up, too. So did the crowd, still a-laughin' and a-hootin'. I kinda backed a bit. When I reached the stairs, I went slower, feelin' my way. Minute and I come out onto Silverstein's hind porch. Nobody was there, so I went over to the edge and lent agin a' upright. Right back of Silverstein's they's a line of hitchin'-posts. Two hosses was fastened there when I come, but it was so dark, and I felt so kinda bad, that I didn't notice the broncs par_tic_-ular. Till, 'round the corner, towards 'em, come that Simpson. Next, walkin' slow and lookin' down--Macie. But she got onto her hoss quick, and without no help. All the time, Bugsey was a-fussin' with his mustang. But the critter was nervous, and wasn't no easy job. Macie waited. She was nighest to me, and right in line with the light from a winda. I could see her face plain. But I couldn't tell how she was feelin',--put out, 'r quiet, 'r just kinda tired. Simpson got into the saddle then, his hoss rearin' and runnin'. He could steer a gasoline wagon, but he couldn't handle a cayuse. He turned to holler: "Comin', Miss Sewell?" She said she was, but she started awful slow, and kinda peered back, and up to the hall. At the same time, she must 'a' saw that they was a man on the back porch, 'cause she pulled in a little, lookin' hard. I felt that rope a-drawin' me then. I couldn't 'a' kept myself from goin' to her. I started down. "Miss Macie!" I says; "Miss Macie!" "Why,--why, Mister Lloyd!" She wheeled her hoss. "Is that you?" I went acrosst the yard to where she was. "Yas,--it's me," I says. She lent down towards me a little. "You been awful good to me," she says. "_I_ know. It was _you_ got all them votes. Hairoil said so." "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._"