“I don’t know what to do,” said the grandfather monkey. “That is, unless I have it pulled, and I don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Beckie, “still it might be better to have it out.”
“If they could just pull out the ache, and leave the tooth in, I would not mind it so much,” went on the monkey. “But when they pull the tooth just to get out the ache—that is too much! Oh, dear!” and he almost stood up on the end of his tail, the pain was so bad.
Beckie glanced about the circus barn. No one seemed to be looking after the toothache monkey. All the other monkeys were practicing on their hand organs, and all the other animals were reciting their different lessons. Beckie and the old Grandfather monkey were all by themselves.
“I know what I’ll do,” said the little bear girl. “I’ll just slip out and go to Dr. Possum’s and get some toothache medicine for you. That may stop your pain.”
“Oh, will you?” cried the grandpa monkey. “That will be very kind of you.”
So Beckie left her rubber doll asleep, and slipped out of the circus barn when no one was looking. She hurried to Dr. Possum’s office and got some very strong medicine. Then, when she went back, she put some on some cotton and then she put the cotton in the hole of the monkey’s tooth, and soon it was all better.
Then, as Beckie had nothing else to do, she thought she would go to sleep with her doll, which she did, lying down in the soft, clean sawdust. Beckie slept and slept, and so she did not see the bad old skillery-scalery alligator slip in through the barn door which she had left open when she came in with the toothache medicine.
Nearer and nearer came the ’gator to Beckie. She did not see him, neither did Neddie nor the circus man, nor the Professor nor George, the big bear, or they might have driven him away.
“Ah, ha! Now I’ll get her!” whispered the alligator to himself. “She is asleep and can’t see me. I’ll just carry her off to my den, and then—Ah, we shall see what will happen then!”