The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1902-05-17
THE DENTISTS
LOVE STORY,
By James Jeffrey Roche.

nj L would not be correct to say that
| loved Miss Baker at first sight,
which was nearly half year ago,
for Mrs. Tucker was then living-a
beautiful character, sir, with appar-
emily every prospect of long and
happy years before her; then gone
in minute, as you might say, like
like soft-tilling, leaving only an
aching cavity where it had once
bloomed. But if l did not love Miss
Baker, i was interested in her as l
never had been in patient before;
interested professionally. You don't
know her? No; perhaps it is better
you shouldn't, for your own peace
of mind, sir. Wait minute and I
will show you something"
DR.. Tucker disappeared in the lit
tie cubby-hole adjoining his operat-
ing room and presently returned with
triumphant smile and set of false
teeth. Il want you to look at this"
he said, as he pushed me gently back
in the chair and again gagged me
with the rubber apron. You see,
of course, what it is; but perhaps
only professional man can appre-
ciate its full beauty. There they lie,
like gems in casket; 80 of them
and every one fawless. 1t is pic
ture for a poet to dream of. Now,
you will hardly believe me, but I
must ask you to take my word for it,
when l say that these teeth, made
by the best artists in the world
(Nammel and Kusp, of Berlin),
aren't one bit finer, stronger, more
regular or better formed than the
glorious set with which nature has
endowed Miss Baker. And when it
comes to beauty, gloss, and what
you would call expression, bless
you, sir, Manned and Kusp are no.
where beside the simple handiwork
of nature. 1t is marvellous what ma
ture can do when she sets about it.
Let me hold it up to the light. Now
just cast your eye along that line,
from the first incisor to the last
molar on the left side. Look how
they blend together as it were; how
the slender biscupid leans against
the sturdy molar, as an ivy clings
to an oak. See the dimples in every
crown of those back teeth. Just
drink in the beauties of this set and
then imagine, if you can, what 1t was
to have a set in the living subject
as much finer than this as a star is
finer than an electric light.
'Well you may guess what joy
4 - L..
or twice month, to go over those
teeth of Miss Bakers. one by one,
lingering fondly over each, watching
anXiously lest there might be the
first symptoms of decay, rejoicing
when / ever found them sound and
brilliant and spotless as pearls.
There was a time, after my second
sad bereavement, while the grief
which it brought to pe was slowly
absorbing itself, and the alveolar
processes of my wounded heart were
1nercifully cicatrizing-a sorrow
laden period of ten days, during
which l never once entered my
studio. When at last did return, l
found q note from Miss Baker, ask
AhS inc W give ucT III uppoih'hiShN
as she did not like, she said, to go
to stranger
"What did IL mean? I asked my
self with beating heart. At least it
meant what it said: was not
stranger to her. OF course, l was
not foolish enough to misunderstood
the object of her request. 1t was
strictly professional; yet l could not
help indulging in a wild hope that
time might come when. And
I could wait. The world was all be-
fore us, comparatively speaking; for
Miss Baker was in the prime of her
youthful beauty, and our united ages
would not exceed three-score and
ten, which is the limit allotted to
even single individual, I believe.
.'T wrote at once, appointing the
following Thursday, lit was then
Monday for her visit. had hope,
but alas, had not the confidence
TO hasten the day which should for
ever determine my fate for good
or i'll.