"Alive and kickin', Alec."

She ast me in. A kinda ole lady was over to one side, cookin'. At a table was two gents, the one young, with a complexion like the bottom-side of a watermelon; the other about fifty, with a long coat, a vest all over coffee, and no more chin'n a gopher.

"Mrs. Whipple," says Macie, "Mister Lloyd."

"Ma'am, I'm tickled t' death."

"Hair Von" (somethin'-r'-other), "Mister Lloyd." (Don't wonder she called him "_Hair._" By thunder! he had a mane two feet long!) "And Mister Jones." (I ketched _that_ name O. K.)

"Mister Lloyd," says the ole lady, "will you have some breakfast?"

I felt like sayin' they 'd likely be blamed little fer _me,_ 'cause them two gezabas was just a-_hoppin'_ it in to 'em. But I only answers, "Thank y', I just et in one of them bong-tong rest'rants that's down in a cellar, and so, ma'am, my breadbasket's plumb full."

I sit down on a trunk (it had a tidy over it, but I knowed it was a _trunk_ all right), and Macie, she sit down byside me.

"Alec," she begun,--say! she looked mighty sweet!--"t'-night is a' awful important night in my life. I been a-studyin' with Hair Von" (you know), "and now I'm a-goin' to have a _re_cital. And what d' you think? Seenyer" (I fergit who, this minute), "the grea-a-at impressyroa, is comin' to hear me. And he's goin' to put me into grand op'ra."

"You don't say!"

"Yas," says Long-hair, swellin' up. "The Seenyer is my friend, and any favour----"

I turned and looked clost at Macie. Her face was all alive, she was so happy, and her eyes was dancin'. "You're a-goin' t' make you' big stab t'-night," I says. "Wal, I sh.o.r.e wish you luck."

Then I took another look at that Perfessor--and of a suddent I begun to wonder _if all the cards was on the table._ 'Cause he was too oily to be genuwine. And I'd saw his stripe afore--"even up on the red and white, five to one on the blue, and ten to one on the numbers."

"She'll be a second Patty," he says, puttin' out a bread-hooker fer more feed.

"I'll take another slice of toast," says Melon-face, "and a' aig and a third cup--it's _so_ good, Miss Sewell, I'm really _ashamed,_ yas, I _am._"

After that, I didn't say much--just plumb petryfied watchin' them two gents shovel. Talk about you' grizzly in the springtime! And you bet they was no gittin' shet of 'em till they couldn't hole no more.

But, fin'lly, they moseyed, and me and Macie and the ole lady had a chin. It come out that Long-hair (_and_ his friend) showed up ev'ry mornin'.

"And allus gits his breakfast," I says.

"Wal, in Noo York, folks drop 'round that--a-way," she answers.

"It's Bohemia."

"Bohemia--you mean a kinda free hand-out."

"Alec! _No!_ Bohemians divvy with each other."

"Seem's t' me Macie Sewell does _most_ of the divvyin'."

"You don't understand," she says. "People with artistic temper'ments don't think about such--such common things."

"No? Just the same, that artistic team of yourn was sh.o.r.e stuck on boiled aigs."

That ruffled her up some. "Alec," she says, "you mustn't run down the Perfessor. He's a big musician."

"Wal," I answers, "if hair makes a big musician, 'Pache Sam oughta lead the band."

"And he's been awful good to me. Why, he's let go dozens and _dozens_ of rich pupils to come here ev'ry day and give me my lesson."

"Fer how much?"

"What?" She got red.

"Fer how much?" I ast again.

"Five dollars," she answers.

I snickered.

"But he charges all the others _ten,_" she puts in quick. "He come down in the price 'cause he was so wrapped up in my _ca_reer."

"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 gra.s.s sprout under _my_ moccasins. And when I turned up, 'twixt eight and nine o'clock at that _re_cital, 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 c.o.c.ked 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 pa.s.sel of what-is-its?"

"Ssh!" she whispers back. "They'll hear you! Most of 'em is big artists."

"No!" I got turrible solemn. "Have they brought they temper'ments with 'em?"

She laughed.

"Now, don't devil me, Alec," she says. "But honest, ain't this Bohemian atmosphere just grand?"

"Wal," I says, sniffin' it, "it reminds _me_ of a Chinee wash-house."

That wasn't the worst of it. The men was tankin' up like the Ole Harry--right in front of the women! And on beer! What d' you think!

_Beer!_