Marshall's
all right. There's nothing to worry about, Doc."
Patsy's tooth wasn't aching a bit. But her heart was throbbing as madly
as the tooth ever did, and fortunately there was no pain connected with
the throbbing--only joy.
"It ought to be worth two thousand dollars, 'Rast," said the dentist.
"What! In addition to all other expenses?"
"Why, man; it means the election. It means your whole future. If you're
defeated now, you're a back number in this district, and you know it."
"It's too much, Doc. On my word it is."
"It's too little, come to think of it. I'll make it three thousand."
"Doc!"
"If you don't close with me, 'Rast, by the jumping Jupiter, I'll make it
four thousand," cried the dentist, with exasperation.
"Say twenty-five hundred, Doc."
"Right on the nail. Give me your check here--this minute."
"And you'll enter the names in the books?"
"Before you leave the office. Have you got the list?"
"Yes; in my pocket," said Mr. Hopkins.
"Then make out your check and I'll get the books."
There was a stir behind the partition and a sound of chairs scraping the
floor. Patsy slid out the door and flew down the stairs at the imminent
danger of breaking her neck. James was seated in the buggy outside,
engaged in rumination.
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