I thought it was a number of the
'American System of Dentistry' at first, and when I'd opened it and
looked at it I thought I'd better----"
"Say, Mac," interrupted Trina, looking up from the notice, "DIDN'T you
ever go to a dental college?"
"Huh? What? What?" exclaimed McTeague.
"How did you learn to be a dentist? Did you go to a college?"
"I went along with a fellow who came to the mine once. My mother sent
me. We used to go from one camp to another. I sharpened his excavators
for him, and put up his notices in the towns--stuck them up in the
post-offices and on the doors of the Odd Fellows' halls. He had a
wagon."
"But didn't you never go to a college?"
"Huh? What? College? No, I never went. I learned from the fellow."
Trina rolled down her sleeves. She was a little paler than usual. She
fastened the buttons into the cuffs and said:
"But do you know you can't practise unless you're graduated from a
college? You haven't the right to call yourself, 'doctor.'"
McTeague stared a moment; then:
"Why, I've been practising ten years. More--nearly twelve."
"But it's the law."
"What's the law?"
"That you can't practise, or call yourself doctor, unless you've got a
diploma.
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