"
Trina let her paint-stained hands fall into her lap.
"OH!" she cried. "If we don't have the HARDEST luck of any two people
I ever heard of. What can you do now? Is there another place like that
where they make surgical instruments?"
"Huh? No, I don' know. There's three more."
"Well, you must try them right away. Go down there right now."
"Huh? Right now? No, I'm tired. I'll go down in the morning."
"Mac," cried Trina, in alarm, "what are you thinking of? You talk as
though we were millionaires. You must go down this minute. You're losing
money every second you sit there." She goaded the huge fellow to his
feet again, thrust his hat into his hands, and pushed him out of the
door, he obeying the while, docile and obedient as a big cart horse. He
was on the stairs when she came running after him.
"Mac, they paid you off, didn't they, when they discharged you?"
"Yes."
"Then you must have some money. Give it to me."
The dentist heaved a shoulder uneasily.
"No, I don' want to."
"I've got to have that money. There's no more oil for the stove, and I
must buy some more meal tickets to-night."
"Always after me about money," muttered the dentist; but he emptied his
pockets for her, nevertheless.
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