"There is a small decayed spot," he said to his wife; "but nothing to make such a fuss about as he did last night. The dentist will either fill it or take it out."
"Pull it, do you mean, papa? Oh, I can't have it pulled!"
"Hush that, now! You made enough noise last night to have a dozen teeth pulled."
"I wont say another word, papa, if it aches again. I'll stay in bed, and try to go to sleep."
"All very fine, I dare say; but I can't risk being kept awake half the night, and made unfit for business by the headache; and there's your mamma too, who sang herself hoarse because you wouldn't put a little patience into exercise; and now her eyes look terribly inflamed, with the gas burning directly in her face. Come, eat your breakfast quick; I'm in a hurry."
The boy's plate was piled with fritters; and he was very fond of syrup on them; but his mamma cautioned him that the sweet might make his tooth ache again.
"I don't believe it will," he exclaimed. "It's all well now."
"Take syrup, if you like," said his father, "but if your teeth aches, don't let us hear a word of complaint."
He had scarcely taken the first mouthful when he gave a shriek, and ran away from the table. He had no appetite for any more cakes, and in a few minutes found himself on his way to town.