You try
to lure him away with a wad of medicated cotton stuck on the end
of a parlor match. But arnica is evidently an acquired taste
with him. He doesn't seem to care for it any more than you do.
You begin to dress, using one hand to put your clothes on with and
the other to hold the top of your head on. At this important
juncture, the dog tears down the last remaining partitions and
nails the woodchuck. The woodchuck is game--say what you will
about the habits and customs of the woodchuck you have to hand it
to him there--he's game as a lion. He fights back desperately.
Intense excitement reigns throughout the vicinity. While the
struggle wages you get your clothes on and wait for daylight to
come, which it does in from eight to ten weeks. Norway is not the
only place where the nights are six months long.
There is nobody waiting at the dentist's when you get there, it
being early. You are willing to wait. At a barber shop it may
be different but at a dentist's you are always willing to wait,
like a gentleman. But the sinewy young man who is sitting in
the front parlor reading the Hammer Thrower's Gazette, welcomes
you with a false air of gaiety entirely out of keeping with the
circumstances and invites you to step right in.
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