“Yes, Mrs. Tregaskis.”
“Well, Nellie, I’m very sorry you’ve got toothache, but we’re—let me see—one, two, three, four people in here besides yourself! Five, if we count this little man,” she added, with a laughing nod at the unresponsive baby, “and I don’t see why he shouldn’t have his share of fresh air. You wouldn’t want five people to do without God’s lovely fresh air that’s so good for us all, just because you’ve got toothache, Nellie?”
“I don’t want to catch cold in ’un, Mrs. Tregaskis,” muttered the girl sullenly.
But she left the window open.
Presently Mrs. Tregaskis asked her if she’d been to the dentist.
“Yes, Mrs. Tregaskis. I’m just on my way back. But her culdn’t du nothin’ for me while ’tis swollenlike.”
“No, I see that. You silly girl, you ought to have gone before it got so bad. If only you girls ate fewer sweets, you wouldn’t have such bad teeth—but at any rate, if you must give yourself toothache, you ought to be brave and go to see the dentist before getting to this stage. Now I don’t suppose you’ve been able to do much towards helping your mother for the last week, have you, with your mouth in that state?”
“No, Mrs. Tregaskis.”
There was a suspicion of a flounce in Nellie Jewell’s movements as she rose to get out at the next station.
“Good-bye, Nellie. I hope you’ll have had that tooth right out next time I see you,” said Bertha, with unperturbed good-humour.