"Now," he said soothingly, "kindly open your mouth--wide." Like all women of strong and generous character, Mrs Simeon Clowes had a large mouth. She obediently extended it to dimensions which must be described as august, at the same time pointing with her gloved and chubby finger to a particular part of it. "Yes, yes," murmured Mr Cowlishaw, assuming a tranquillity which he did not feel. This was the first time that he had ever looked into the mouth of a Mayoress, and the prospect troubled him. He put his little ivory-handled mirror into that mouth and studied its secrets. "I see," he said, withdrawing the mirror. "Exposed nerve. Quite simple. Merely wants stopping. When I've done with it the tooth will be as sound as ever it was. All your other teeth are excellent." Mrs Clowes arose violently out of the chair. "Now just listen to me, please," she said. "I don't want any stopping; I won't have any stopping; I want that tooth out. I've already quarrelled with one dentist this afternoon because he refused to take it out. I came to you because you're young, and I thought you'd be more reasonable. Surely a body can decide whether she'll have a tooth out or not! It's my tooth. What's a dentist for? In my young days dentists never did anything else but take teeth out. All I wish to know is, will you take it out or will you not?" "It's really a pity--" "That's my affair, isn't it?" she stopped him, and moved towards her bonnet. "If you insist," he said quickly, "I will extract." "Well," she said, "if you don't call this insisting, what do you call insisting? Let me tell you I didn't have a wink of sleep last night!" "Neither did I, in your confounded hotel!" he nearly retorted; but thought better of it. The Mayoress resumed her seat, taking her gloves off. "It's decided then?" she questioned. "Certainly," said he. "Is your heart good?" "Is my heart good?" she repeated. "Young man, what business is that of yours? It's my tooth I want you to deal with, not my heart." "I must give you gas," said Mr Cowlishaw, faintly. "Gas!" she exclaimed. "You'll give me no gas, young man. No! My heart is not good. I should die under gas. I couldn't bear the idea of gas. You must take it out without gas, and you mustn't hurt me. I'm a perfect baby, and you mustn't on any account hurt me." The moment was crucial. Supposing that he refused--a promising career might be nipped in the bud; would, undoubtedly, be nipped in the bud. Whereas, if he accepted the task, the patronage of the aristocracy of Hanbridge was within his grasp. But the tooth was colossal, monumental. He estimated the length of its triple root at not less than 0.75 inch. "Very well, madam," he said, for he was a brave youngster.