“Dr. Thorndike,” explained Agnes, “that extraordinary dentist whom Ginger went to—he and Guy were friends at school together; isn’t that right, Guy?”
“Yes, quite good friends too,” said Guy. “Poor fellow, had a nervous breakdown or something from what Ginger says. No, I haven’t had a word from him in the longest. How was he then, when you last saw him, Ginger?”
Grand had made this inquiry any number of times, and then had always glossed over Ginger’s account of the incident, as though he could not fully take it in.
“The last time!” she cried. “Why I only saw him once, of course—on your recommendation—and once too often it was too! Good God, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that again? Why he was absolutely insane! He said to me, ‘These molars are soft, Mrs. Horton!’ or some such ridiculous thing. ‘We’d better get you onto a soft-food regime right away!’ he said, and then, without another word about it, while I was still leaning back with my mouth open, he dropped a raw egg into my mouth and rushed out of the room, waving his arms and yelling at the top of his voice. Raving mad!”
“Hmm—not like Bill Thorndike,” said Grand. “First-rate dentist, he used to be. You never went back to him then?”
“I certainly did not! I went straight to the nearest police station, that’s where I went! And reported him!”
Grand frowned a look of mild disapproval.
“I’m afraid that won’t help Bill’s standing with the Association any.”
“Well, I should hope not!” said Ginger Horton as strongly as she could.
“How Uncle Edward used to love raw eggs!” said Esther. “Do you remember, Agnes?”