CRAMPTON. That's a spoiled child, Mr. Valentine. That's one of your modern products. When I was her age, I had many a good hiding fresh in my memory to teach me manners. VALENTINE (taking up his dental mirror and probe from the shelf in front of the cabinet). What did you think of her sister? CRAMPTON. You liked her better, eh? VALENTINE (rhapsodically). She struck me as being-- (He checks himself, and adds, prosaically) However, that's not business. (He places himself behind Crampton's right shoulder and assumes his professional tone.) Open, please. (Crampton opens his mouth. Valentine puts the mirror in, and examines his teeth.) Hm! You have broken that one. What a pity to spoil such a splendid set of teeth! Why do you crack nuts with them? (He withdraws the mirror, and comes forward to converse with Crampton.) CRAMPTON. I've always cracked nuts with them: what else are they for? (Dogmatically.) The proper way to keep teeth good is to give them plenty of use on bones and nuts, and wash them every day with soap-- plain yellow soap. VALENTINE. Soap! Why soap? CRAMPTON. I began using it as a boy because I was made to; and I've used it ever since. And I never had toothache in my life. VALENTINE. Don't you find it rather nasty? CRAMPTON. I found that most things that were good for me were nasty. But I was taught to put up with them, and made to put up with them. I'm used to it now: in fact, I like the taste when the soap is really good. VALENTINE (making a wry face in spite of himself). You seem to have been very carefully educated, Mr. Crampton. CRAMPTON (grimly). I wasn't spoiled, at all events. VALENTINE (smiling a little to himself). Are you quite sure? CRAMPTON. What d'y' mean? VALENTINE. Well, your teeth are good, I admit. But I've seen just as good in very self-indulgent mouths. (He goes to the ledge of cabinet and changes the probe for another one.) CRAMPTON. It's not the effect on the teeth: it's the effect on the character. VALENTINE (placably). Oh, the character, I see. (He recommences operations.) A little wider, please. Hm! That one will have to come out: it's past saving. (He withdraws the probe and again comes to the side of the chair to converse.) Don't be alarmed: you shan't feel anything. I'll give you gas. CRAMPTON. Rubbish, man: I want none of your gas. Out with it. People were taught to bear necessary pain in my day. VALENTINE. Oh, if you like being hurt, all right. I'll hurt you as much as you like, without any extra charge for the beneficial effect on your character. CRAMPTON (rising and glaring at him). Young man: you owe me six weeks' rent. VALENTINE. I do. CRAMPTON. Can you pay me? VALENTINE. No. CRAMPTON (satisfied with his advantage). I thought not. How soon d'y' think you'll be able to pay me if you have no better manners than to make game of your patients? (He sits down again.) VALENTINE. My good sir: my patients haven't all formed their characters on kitchen soap.