He had gone out, but his assistant was in. He looked at Madam Liberality's mouth, and said that the fangs were certainly left in and would be much better out.
"Would it hurt very much?" asked Madam Liberality, trembling.
The assistant blinked the question of "hurting."
"I think I could do it," said he, "if you could sit still. Not if you were jumping about."
"I will sit still," said Madam Liberality.
"The boy shall hold your head," said the assistant.
But Madam Liberality rebelled; she could screw up her sensitive nerves to endure the pain, but not to be coerced by "the boy."
"I give you my word of honour I will sit still," said she, with plaintive earnestness.
And the assistant (who had just remembered that the boy was out with the gig) said, "Very well, miss."
We need not dwell upon the next few seconds. The assistant kept his word, and Madam Liberality kept hers. She sat still, and went on sitting still after the operation was over till the assistant became alarmed, and revived her by pouring some choking stuff down her throat. After which she staggered to her feet and put out her hand and thanked him.