"Want 'em all out now—at once?" demanded the doctor.
"Cert'nly," responded Clarence. "I'm a gunner."
Dr. Brink evidently perceived the point of this observation, for he made no further speech, but drew the teeth forthwith. And Clarence kept on smiling.
He performed his subsequent ablutions in silence, but, having completed them and deposited three sixpences upon the consulting-room table, he again spoke.
"Well, Doctor," he said, "I'll say good-night, and pop off," which he did.
But when he reached the door-step, Baffin found him, and Baffin rejoiced in the find. "You've been a soldier?" exclaimed Baffin.
"Gun-layer. 'Owitzer Battery, R.A. Nine year. Invalided." Clarence smiled again.
"I want you," said Baffin. "Wait there."
Mr. Prince accordingly waited, and his patience was rewarded by the reappearance of Baffin, with whom was Dr. Brink. "This gentleman," said the doctor, "is an artist. He wants you to sit for him. How tall are you?"
"Six-one-and-a-'arf."