'The nuns,' he says, 'who accompany my patient, stand like a couple of sentinels on each side of her, and no word or gesture escapes their attentive ears and watchful gaze. He must have more than a conjuror's hand who can perform any epistolary feat and escape their keen observation.'
The allusion to conjuring reminds me of my scheme.
Will Don Francisco recommend to his patient a box of his registered tooth-powder?
He will be delighted to have that opportunity.
'One of my assistants who accompanies me in my convent rounds shall include such a box in my dentist's bag.'
Don Francisco sees through my 'little powder plot,' as he calls it, and hands me a box of his patented tooth-powder, beneath which I afterwards carefully deposit a billet-doux.
But Don Francisco can improve upon my scheme, and staggers me with his new idea.
'You shall deliver the box yourself!' says he.
The convent rules, he explains, allow him to introduce an assistant, or 'practicante,' as he is called. The same practicante does not always accompany him in his semi-weekly visits to the convent.
'As I am about to visit La Cachita for dental purposes only,' says the considerate gentleman, 'you shall on this occasion act as my practicante.'