"What happens after I'm loaded? Sort of balloon business, this. How long do I stay gassed up?"

"But a minute, and during that minute the tooth is extracted."

"Sure it don't hurt?"

"Not at all—take my word for it. You are conscious, perhaps, of what is being done, but you will experience no pain."

"All right, then. It's warm in here; do you mind me taking off my coat, mister?"

"Not at all."

"I've been walking around pretty much all to-day winding things up."

"Ah!"

Politeness induced the surgeon to utter that exclamation; he was wholly uninterested. He wondered why patients should be so communicative.

"Yes; I'm off back to the States to-morrow. I have been round to Eldon Street about my passage, and as I walked into Finsbury Circus, blest if this tooth didn't come on aching a treat. I didn't[Pg 12] reckon on any dentist being aboard the boat, so, when I saw your sign, I popped right in."

[Pg 12]

"And now, if you will sit here.... So. That's it."

"Hullo! what's that?"

"Don't be nervous—just the gas. Imagine you are going to sleep. That is it.... There you are; Charley, he's gone under."

The surgeon walked aside, the dentist took his place, and, instrument in hand, quickly operated.

As he put the forceps down, and picked up a glass of water, he suddenly cried:

"Arthur! what's wrong? Arthur, quick!"

The surgeon was at the window, drumming with his finger-tips on the panes. He turned round hurriedly when he was addressed and inquired:

"What's the matter?"

 Prev. P 5/178 next