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Mrs Clowes arose violently out of the chair.

“Now just listen to me, please,” she said. “I don’t want any stopping; I won’t have any stopping; I want that tooth out. I’ve already quarrelled with one dentist this afternoon because he refused to take it out. I came to you because you’re young, and I thought you’d be more reasonable. Surely a body can decide whether she’ll have a tooth out or not! It’s my tooth. What’s a dentist for? In my young days dentists never did anything else but take teeth out. All I wish to know is, will you take it out or will you not?”

“It’s really a pity–“

“That’s my affair, isn’t it?” she stopped him, and moved towards her bonnet.

“If you insist,” he said quickly, “I will extract.”

“Well,” she said, “if you don’t call this insisting, what do you call insisting? Let me tell you I didn’t have a wink of sleep last night!”

“Neither did I, in your confounded hotel!” he nearly retorted; but thought better of it.

The Mayoress resumed her seat, taking her gloves off.

“It’s decided then?” she questioned.

“Certainly,” said he. “Is your heart good?”

“Is my heart good?” she repeated. “Young man, what business is that of yours? It’s my tooth I want you to deal with, not my heart.”

“I must give you gas,” said Mr Cowlishaw, faintly.

“Gas!” she exclaimed. “You’ll give me no gas, young man. No! My heart is not good. I should die under gas. I couldn’t bear the idea of gas. You must take it out without gas, and you mustn’t hurt me. I’m a perfect baby, and you mustn’t on any account hurt me.” The moment was crucial. Supposing that he refused–a promising career might be nipped in the bud; would, undoubtedly, be nipped in the bud. Whereas, if he accepted the task, the patronage of the aristocracy of Hanbridge was within his grasp. But the tooth was colossal, monumental. He estimated the length of its triple root at not less than 0.75 inch.

“Very well, madam,” he said, for he was a brave youngster.

But he was in a panic. He felt as though he were about to lead the charge of the Light Brigade. He wanted a stiff drink. (But dentists may not drink.) If he failed to wrench the monument out at the first pull the result would be absolute disaster; in an instant he would have ruined the practice which had cost him so dear. And could he hope not to fail with the first pull? At best he would hurt her indescribably. However, having consented, he was obliged to go through with the affair.

He took every possible precaution. He chose his most vicious instrument. He applied to the vicinity of the tooth the very latest substitute for cocaine; he prepared cotton wool and warm water in a glass. And at length, when he could delay the fatal essay no longer, he said:

“Now, I think we are ready.”

“You won’t hurt me?” she asked anxiously.

“Not a bit,” he replied, with an admirable simulation of gaiety.

“Because if you do–“

He laughed. But it was a hysterical laugh. All his nerves were on end. And he was very conscious of having had no sleep during the previous night. He had a sick feeling. The room swam. He collected himself with a terrific effort.

“When I count one,” he said, “I shall take hold; when I count two you must hold very tight to the chair; and when I count three, out it will come.”

Then he encircled her head with his left arm–brutally, as dentists always are brutal in the thrilling crisis. “Wider!” he shouted.

And he took possession of that tooth with his fiendish contrivance of steel.

“One–two–“

He didn’t know what he was doing.

There was no three. There was a slight shriek and a thud on the floor. Mrs Simeon Clowes jumped up and briskly rang a bell. The attendant rushed in. The attendant saw Mrs Clowes gurgling into a handkerchief, which she pressed to her mouth with one hand, while with the other, in which she held her bonnet, she was fanning the face of Mr Cowlishaw. Mr Cowlishaw had fainted from nervous excitement under fatigue. But his unconscious hand held the forceps; and the forceps, victorious, held the monumental tooth.

“O-o-pen the window,” spluttered Mrs Clowes to the attendant. “He’s gone off; he’ll come to in a minute.”

She was flattered. Mr Cowlishaw was for ever endeared to Mrs Clowes by this singular proof of her impressiveness. And a woman like that can make the fortune of half a dozen dentists.