"Oh, oh, oh, sweet sing bird, Oh, oh, sweet sing bird, ety plump plump----" plump plump Plump It was a shame. But Macie done her best. When she ended up, they hollered fer more, and Long-hair like to break hisself in two, bowin'. She just stood there--like she'd been run to ground. The Perfessor waved his hand. "The Jew's song from Fowst," he calls out. I couldn't stand it no longer. I lent towards her. "The Mohawk Vale," I says; "_please_ sing The Mohawk Vale." The crowd giggled. The Perfessor, he started to laugh, too--but ketched my eye, and coughed. Macie turned towards him. "A' ole friend; I'd like to," she says. And sit down to play fer herself. "Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides On its fair, windin' way to the sea----" She helt herself straight, and tried t' stick it out. But she couldn't. I seen her shake a little, her voice got husky,--and she bent 'way over, her face in her hands. "Why, Miss Sewell!" they exclaims, "why, what's the _matter?_" Then, I gits up. "_Ex_cuse me," I says, "fer puttin' a kibosh on you' party. But I just want to say that this Bohemia-artistic-temper'ment fandango stands _ad_journed. Ev'rybody please vamose--'ceptin' the Perfessor." My goodness! the pow-wow! But they skedaddled just the same. Then I turned to Long-hair. "You' little game is over," I begun. "You don't flimflam this gal another minute. You don't bum offen her fer another meal. You don't give her no more of that Patty song-and-dance." Macie come at me. "Alec! that's insultin'," she says. The Perfessor starts a-gabblin'. "Hole you' hosses," I says. "You knowed _all_ the time that the impressyroa wasn't goin' to show up." "Miss Sewell, this is _too_ much," says Long-hair, clawin' at his mane. "They's more a-comin'," I says. "Macie, I was shore somethin' was skew-gee about this mealy-mouth here, so I had a talk with that Seenyer this afternoon." That give Long-hair a jolt. "Impossible!" he yells; "the secretaries----" "They _was_ about eight, not to mention some office kids," I says; "but when I give 'em some straight ole Oklahomaw, I went in O. K." Long-hair backed off, plumb kaflummuxed. "The Seenyer said he'd heerd of this gent," I goes on, "and wouldn't let him learn a _cow_ of hisn to sing. Friend? any little favour? come here? _Nixey._" I walks over to him. "Acknowledge the corn, you polecat," I says. He seen the jig was up. But he made his bluff. "Miss Sewell, this coarse feller----" Macie cut in. "It's all so," she says. "You've put me off and _put_ me off. All my money's gone. I'd banked on t'-night. And now--what am I goin' to do!" She dropped on to a chair, her face in her hands again. "My pore little gal!"