'You will derive much benefit from its use,' observes Don Francisco. 'My assistant' (and here the cunning tooth-stopper, being close to his patient's ear, whispers my name) 'will bring it you presently.'
'What ails la Niña?' inquires one of the nuns, bending forward; for Cachita has uttered a cry, and swooned away.
'Nothing, señora,' says Don Francisco with the same sang-froid already noted. 'Only a nerve which I have accidentally excited in my operation. She will be better presently.'
The dentist desires me to bring him a certain bottle, and with the contents of this, his patient is soon restored to consciousness.
'Keep her head firm,' says my artful friend, addressing me with a faint smile on his countenance, 'while I put the finishing touches to my work.'
I obey; and though my hands are far from being as steady as an assistant's should be, I acquit myself creditably.
Cachita's mouth is again open to facilitate the dentist's operations, but also, as it seems to me, in token of surprise at the apparition now bending over her.
'You will find much relief in the use of this tooth-powder,' continues my friend, in a careless tone, as though nothing had happened. 'Very strengthening to the gums. When you have got to the bottom of the box—just open your mouth a little wider—when you have got to the bottom of the box—where' (he whispers) 'you will find a note—I will send you another.'
Cachita, by this time accustomed to my presence, can now look me fearlessly in the face with those expressive eyes of hers, which I can read so well, and before the dentist's operations are over, we have contrived, unobserved, to squeeze hands on three distinct occasions.
Assured by this means of my lover's constancy, I now take my leave of her, and, advised by my friends, patiently await the term of her convent captivity, which expires, as I have already stated, in four months and three weeks.