time, but it decided to strike. And strike it did. George gave it
beer--Government beer--and it hit George back, good and hard. George then
began to talk to it. He asked if it knew what it was doing of. He
threatened it with more Government beer if it didn't get on with its work
more quiet-like. The tooth sat up then and bit George.

"All right, young fellow my lad," said George; "you come out along o' me,
and come quiet. You're going to the dentist's, you are, and he'll
Bolshevise you proper, he will."

The tooth stopped aching at once; it was a wisdom tooth. But George knew it
was only just lying low, to break out into sympathetic strike on Monday
morning. So out he rushed with it and took it to the dentist. I was the
dentist.

I led George gently by the hand to my nice little chair and told him what
beautiful weather we were having for the time of the year. I said, "Open,
please," and George opened. I then took my nice little steel whangee,
beautifully polished, and tickled the delinquent. A gentle tickle and no
more. I didn't really go far--not farther than his back collar-stud--but
George said things as if I were a capitalist.

I then said coldly, "It doesn't hurt!" I am what is known in the profession
as a painless dentist and rarely feel much pain.

I capped his repartee by remarking, "Keep open, please." That always shuts
'em up. George kept open. I then spilt some cotton-wool in his tooth and
put up some scaffolding in the entrance of his mouth, and said nonchalantly
(I always charge extra for this), "I have forgotten my niblick; keep open.
I shall be back anon." I then went out and had lunch.