CHAPTER XIV
WHEN TRAGEDY GRINS
"As usual, Tad, it is your stomach that is cutting up. Haven't you any other organ in your body?"
Tad Lincoln pulled the bedclothes up about his shoulders, and smiled sheepishly at Doctor Boyd. "It was the cream puffs," he murmured apologetically.
"And two weeks ago—candy. You are incorrigible. What's this?" The doctor picked an oblong slip of paper off the pillow. It was a check, and read:
"Pay to the order of Tad Lincoln 50c—Fifty Cents—for having his tooth pulled.
"A. Lincoln."[[1] ]
"Did it hurt when it came out?" asked Boyd gravely. For reply, the boy opened his mouth, and disclosed a vacancy in the shining ivories. "Well, don't eat this money up. One attack of indigestion should be enough this month." Tad's face fell; he had already planned how he would spend that fifty cents.
"Is anything much the matter with Tad, Doctor?" inquired the President, entering the bedroom. "Sit down," as Boyd rose. "I stole up from the levee to ask you how he is."
"Just a slight attack of indigestion, due to over-eating, Mr. President. He will be all right to-morrow."