Smiling feebly, you trip over the extended feet of the man next to you, and stagger into the delivery-room, where, amid a ghastly array of death-masks of teeth, blue flames waving eerily from Bunsen burners, and the drowning sound of perpetually running water which chokes and gurgles at intervals, you sink into the chair and close your eyes.

* * * * *

But now let us consider the spiritual exaltation that comes when you are at last let down and turned loose.  It is all over, and what did it amount to?  Why, nothing at all.  A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  Nothing at all.

You suddenly develop a particular friendship for the dentist.  A splendid fellow, really.  You ask him questions about his instruments.  What does he use this thing for, for instance?  Well, well, to think, of a little thing like that making all that trouble.  A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!...  And the dentist’s family, how are they?  Isn’t that fine!

Gaily you shake hands with him and straighten your tie.  Forgotten is the fact that you have another appointment with him for Monday.  There is no such thing as Monday.  You are through for today, and all’s right with the world.

As you pass out through the waiting-room, you leer at the others unpleasantly.  The poor fishes!  Why can’t they take their medicine like grown people and not sit there moping as if they were going to be shot?

Heigh-ho!  Here’s the elevator-man!  A charming fellow!  You wonder if he knows that you have just had a tooth filled.  You feel tempted to tell him and slap him on the back.  You feel tempted to tell everyone out in the bright, cheery street.  And what a wonderful street it is too!  All full of nice, black snow and water.  After all, Life is sweet!

And then you go and find the first person whom you can accost without being arrested and explain to him just what it was that the dentist did to you, and how you felt, and what you have got to have done next time.

Which brings us right back to where we were in the beginning, and perhaps accounts for everyone’s liking to divulge their dental secrets to others.  It may be a sort of hysterical relief that, for the time being, it is all over with.

XXVIII

MALIGNANT MIRRORS

As a rule, I try not to look into mirrors any more than is absolutely necessary.  Things are depressing enough as they are without my going out of my way to make myself miserable.

But every once in a while it is unavoidable.  There are certain mirrors in town with which I am brought face to face on occasion and there is nothing to do but make the best of it.  I have come to classify them according to the harshness with which they fling the truth into my face.