But the
dentist only said, "Keep him down!" and the others kept him down.
Dad's neck was stretching like a gander's, and it looked as if his head
would come off. The dentist threw his shoulders into it like a crack
oarsman--there was a crack, a rip, a tear, and, like a young tree leaving
the ground, two huge, ugly old teeth left Dad's jaw on the end of that
sinew.
"Holy!" cried the dentist, surprised, and we stared. Little Bill made for
the teeth; so did Joe, and there was a fight under the table.
Dad sat in a lump on the floor propping himself up with his hands; his
head dropped forward, and he spat feebly on the floor.
The pressman laughed and slapped Dad on the back, and asked "How do you
feel, old boy?" Dad shook his head and spat and spat. But presently he
wiped his eyes with his shirt-sleeve and looked up. The pressman told
Mother she ought to be proud of Dad. Dad struggled to his feet then, pale
but smiling. The pressman shook hands with him, and in no time Dad was
laughing and joking over the operation. A pleased look was in Mother's
face; happiness filled the home again, and we grew quite fond of that
pressman--he was so jolly and affable, and made himself so much at home,
Mother said.
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