Larry. I'm only like the means of settin' it in motion, an' then it does all the rest itself in a strange an' mysterious manner.

"Now, I want you, Larry, before I start at all, to give me your solemn word that you'll wait, real patient, until the charm is ready to work, an' that you'll make no complaint either before or after the charm takes place. Some people get impatient an' make some complaint or other, an' then, instead of the charm workin', the pain o' the toothache gets worse than ever, an' sometimes they die that very night. Do you promise, Larry?"

"I promise, Ned, that no matter how severe or how long the workin' o' the charm is I'll not make the least complaint, because I'd suffer anythin' to ease the pain o' this infernal tooth. Sure it'll never annoy me again, Ned?"

"Never," said Ned M'Grane, decisively, as he took from a small box a long, thin strand of flaxen thread, and pulled and jerked it in every conceivable fashion to test its strength. Then he stretched it three times along the anvil, and three times along the sledge hammer, and three times along a bar of iron, uttering[Pg 20] all the time in a weird, solemn tone, strange, inarticulate sounds, which silenced Larry's groans and made him feel awed and frightened.

[Pg 20]

"Now, Larry," said the blacksmith, when this ceremony was over, "you'll have to suffer a little pain while I get this magic band round the achin' tooth. Open your mouth now."

Larry did as he was directed, and in a minute the smith deftly wound the flaxen thread round the tooth, and knotted it tightly.

"Put your hands on your knees now, like a good man, and bend down towards the anvil here," said Ned. "That's just right. Stay that way now for a while, an' don't stir an' don't look up. You'll be all right soon."

Whilst speaking he was tying the two ends of the flaxen thread tightly and securely to the horn of the anvil. When this was accomplished he put the bar of iron into the fire, gathered the glowing embers around it, and commenced to blow the bellows vigorously.

It was a comical picture altogether.

There was Larry, his hands resting on his knees, his head bent down until his nose was within a foot of the horn of the anvil, a stream of water running from his open mouth, his eyes fixed upon the floor, while he tried to groan cheerfully, in fear lest he might be taken as complaining.

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