"My mouth is three inches acrost, five-eighths inches threw the jaw. Some hummocky on the edge. Shaped like a hoss-shew, toe forward. If you want me to be more particular, I shall have to come thar."
Dentist, speaking to patient about to have a tooth extracted—"Have you heard the latest song hit?"
Patient—"No. What is the title of it?"
Dentist—"The Yanks are Coming."
Returning home from the dentist's, where he had gone to have a loose tooth drawn, little Raymond reported as follows:
"The doctor told me 'fore he began that if I cried or screamed it would cost me a dollar, but if I was a good boy it would be only fifty cents."
"Did you scream?" his mother asked.
"How could I?" answered Raymond. "You only gave me fifty cents."