"Why do you want to go to the dentist, Glen?" he asked kindly. "What attention do your teeth need?"
Glen was confused. So far as he knew his teeth were sound as bullets. He had not sunk to the place where lies were easy of expression.
"I don't know just what, sir," he stammered, wishing that he could think of something. "The dentist will know what they need."
This was as good an answer as he could have made, although stumbled on by chance.
"You want the dentist to go over them to find what is the matter, do you?" said the soft-hearted superintendent.
"Yes, sir. I want the dentist to find what is the matter."
"It isn't a bad idea," said the superintendent. "It won't be necessary for you to go to town, though, for the dentist is coming out here next week."
"But I don't want to wait until next week," cried Glen. "I want to go to-day. I want him to pull one out."
"Which one?" inquired the superintendent.
It made little difference to Glen which tooth he denoted for the sacrifice. Now that he had told the lie he would stay by it. He pointed to a big double tooth and resolved that he would remember it.