While suffering from this attack, I had a visit from another friend of the same class with Mrs. A—. She was a kind, good-natured soul, and would watch by your sick-bed untiringly, night after night, and do it with real pleasure. But she had, like Mrs. A—, a very thoughtless habit of relating the many direful afflictions and scenes of human suffering it had been her lot to witness and hear of, unconscious that she often did great harm thereby, particularly when these things were done, as was too often the case, apropos.
"You are not well," she said, when she came in and saw the expression of pain in my face.
"What is the matter?"
"Nothing more than a very troublesome tooth-ache," I replied.
"Use a little kreosote," said she.
"I would; but the tooth is sound."
"A sound tooth, is it?" My visitor's tone and look made my heart beat quicker.
"Yes, it is perfectly sound."
"I am always afraid of an aching tooth that is perfectly sound, since poor Mrs. P—had such a time with her jaw."
"What was that?" I asked, feeling instantly alarmed.