"It's just the very way things have," said Blue, lamenting. "For two
months we've quite wished we had toothache, and there was Tommy the
other night just roaring with it."

"I shouldn't like a _roaring_ toothache," said Red, reflectively.

"Oh, but the worse it was," cried Blue, encouragingly, "the more
necessary it would be--" She stopped and shook her head with a very
roguish and significant glance at her sister.

"Mamma only put a bag of hot salt to Tommy's," said Red, prognosticating
evil.

"But if it were me," cried Blue, with assurance, "I'd not be cured by
bags of hot salt. I would insist upon consulting a dentist."

They both laughed a laugh of joyful plotting.

"It was only the other day," said Red, twisting her little English voice
into the American accent, "that he told Harold he was right down clever
at tinkering a tooth in the most pain_less_ manner."

"Oh, Red, dear Red," begged Blue, "do feel it again, for my sake; it
would be so joyfully funny if mamma would take us to him."

"I'd a little bit rather _you_, had the ache, Blue."

"I'd have it this _instant_ if I could, but"--reproachfully--"it was you
that felt the twinge.".