Love stories; Reformatories -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She took the hint laughingly. There were more things than the boa to
be borrowed for the conquest of Grimes. She was touched by Paul's
transparent diplomacy, and glad that in his slow man's way he had at
last perceived why their outings had ceased. So, by grace of Paul and
Amy, it fell out before another week elapsed that the affianced lady
assistant of the Acme Painless Dental Company left to prepare for her
bridal, and Jean reigned in her stead.
The company's outworks on Sixth Avenue were a resplendent negro and
a monumental show-case, both filled with glittering specimens of the
painless marvels accomplished within. The African wore a uniform of
green and gold, and all day forced advertisements into the unwilling
hands of passers-by, chanting meanwhile the full style and title of
the establishment in a voice which soared easily above the roar of
the elevated trains overhead. Passing this personage, you mounted
a staircase whose every step besought you to remember the precise
whereabouts of the parlors, while yet other placards of like import
made clear the way at the top and throughout the unmistakable corridor
leading to the true and only Acme Painless Dental Company's door.
Entering here to the trill of an electric bell, you came full upon
the central office, or, as the leaflets read, the elegant parlor,
from which the operating-rooms led on every hand. In character
this apartment was broadly eclectic. Jean's special nook, with its
telephone, cash-register, and smart roll-top desk, was contemporary to
the minute; yet in the corner diagonally opposed, a suit of stage armor
jauntily bade the waiting patient think upon knights, jousts, and the
swashbuckling Middle Ages. In still another quarter a languorous slave
girl of scanty raiment, but abundant bangles, postured upon a teak-wood
tabouret, backed by way of further realism with Bagdad hangings and a
palm of the convenient species which no frost blights and an occasional
whisk of the duster always rejuvenates. The chairs were frankly Grand
Rapids and built for wear, though the proprietor's avowed taste ran
to a style he called "Lewis Quince"; and the gilt he might not employ
here he lavished upon the frames of his pictures, which, nearly without
exception, were night-scenes wherein shimmering castle windows or the
gibbous moon were cunningly inlaid in mother-of-pearl. In the midst
of all this, now pacifying the waiting with vain promises of speedy
relief, now pottering off into this room or that in as futile attempts
to make each of several sufferers believe his blundering services
exclusive--big, easy-going, slovenly, yet popular--moved Grimes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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