That afternoon he sat in his beautiful new surgery and waited for dental
sufferers to come to him from all quarters of the Five Towns. It needs
not to be said that nobody came. The mere fact that a new dentist has
"set up" in a district is enough to cure all the toothache for miles
around. The one martyr who might, perhaps, have paid him a visit and a
fee did not show herself. This martyr was Mrs Simeon Clowes, the
mayoress. By a curious chance, he had observed, during his short sojourn
at the Turk's Head, that the landlady thereof was obviously in pain from
her teeth, or from a particular tooth. She must certainly have informed
herself as to his name and condition, and Mr Cowlishaw thought that it
would have been a graceful act on her part to patronize him, as he had
patronized the Turk's Head. But no! Mayoresses, even the most tactful,
do not always do the right thing at the right moment.
Besides, she had doubtless gone, despite toothache, to the football
match with the Mayor, the new club being under the immediate patronage
of his Worship. All the potting world had gone to the football match.
Mr Cowlishaw would have liked to go, but it would have been madness to
quit the surgery on his opening day. So he sat and yawned, and peeped at
the crowd crowding to the match at two o'clock, and crowding back in the
gloom at four o'clock; and at a quarter past five he was reading a full
description of the carnage and the heroism in the football edition of
the _Signal_. Though Hanbridge had been defeated, it appeared from the
_Signal_ that Hanbridge was the better team, and that Rannoch, the new
Scotch centre-forward, had fought nobly for the town which had bought
him so dear.
Mr Cowlishaw was just dozing over the _Signal_ when there happened a
ring at his door. He did not precipitate himself upon the door. With
beating heart he retained his presence of mind, and said to himself that
of course it could not possibly be a client. Even dentists who bought a
practice ready-made never had a client on their first day. He heard the
attendant answer the ring, and then he heard the attendant saying, "I'll
see, sir."
It was, in fact, a patient. The servant, having asked Mr Cowlishaw if Mr
Cowlishaw was at liberty, introduced the patient to the Presence, and
the Presence trembled.
The patient was a tall, stiff, fair man of about thirty, with a tousled
head and inelegant but durable clothing. He had a drooping moustache,
which prevented Mr Cowlishaw from adding his teeth up instantly.
"Good afternoon, mister," said the patient, abruptly.
"Good afternoon," said Mr Cowlishaw. "Have you ... Can I ..."
Strange; in the dental hospital and school there had been no course of
study in the art of pattering to patients!
"It's like this," said the patient, putting his hand in his waistcoat
pocket.
"Will you kindly sit down," said Mr Cowlishaw, turning up the gas, and
pointing to the chair of chairs.
"It's like this," repeated the patient, doggedly. "You see these three
teeth?"
He displayed three very real teeth in a piece of reddened paper. As a
spectacle, they were decidedly not appetizing, but Mr Cowlishaw was
hardened.
"Really!" said Mr Cowlishaw, impartially, gazing on them.
"They're my teeth," said the patient. And thereupon he opened his mouth
wide, and displayed, not without vanity, a widowed gum. "'Ont 'eeth," he
exclaimed, keeping his mouth open and omitting preliminary consonants.
"Yes," said Mr Cowlishaw, with a dry inflection. "I saw that they were
upper incisors. How did this come about? An accident, I suppose?"
"Well," said the man, "you may call it an accident; I don't. My name's
Rannoch; centre-forward. Ye see? Were ye at the match?"
Mr Cowlishaw understood. He had no need of further explanation; he had
read it all in the _Signal_. And so the chief victim of Tottenham
Hotspur had come to him, just him! This was luck! For Rannoch was, of
course, the most celebrated man in the Five Towns, and the idol of the
populace. He might have been M.P. had he chosen.
"Dear me!" Mr Cowlishaw sympathized, and he said again, pointing more
firmly to the chair of chairs, "Will you sit down?"
"I had 'em all picked up," Mr Rannoch proceeded, ignoring the
suggestion. "Because a bit of a scheme came into my head. And that's why
I've come to you, as you're just commencing dentist. Supposing you put
these teeth on a bit of green velvet in the case in your window, with a
big card to say as they're guaranteed to be my genuine teeth, knocked
out by that blighter of a Tottenham half-back, you'll have such a crowd
as was never seen around your door. All the Five Towns'll come to see
'em. It'll be the biggest advertisement that either you or any other
dentist ever had. And you might put a little notice in the _Signal_
saying that my teeth are on view at your premises; it would only cost ye
a shilling.... I should expect ye to furnish me with new teeth for
nothing, ye see."
In his travels throughout England Mr Rannoch had lost most of his Scotch
accent, but he had not lost his Scotch skill in the art and craft of
trying to pay less than other folks for whatever he might happen to
want.
Assuredly the idea was an idea of genius. As an advertisement it would
be indeed colossal and unique. Tens of thousands would gaze spellbound
for hours at those relics of their idol, and every gazer would
inevitably be familiarized with the name and address of Mr Cowlishaw,
and with the fact that Mr Cowlishaw was dentist-in-chief to the heroical
Rannoch. Unfortunately, in dentistry there is etiquette. And the
etiquette of dentistry is as terrible, as unbending, as the etiquette of
the Court of Austria.
Mr Cowlishaw knew that he could not do this thing without sinning
against etiquette.
"I'm sorry I can't fall in with your scheme," said he, "but I can't."
"But, _man_!" protested the Scotchman, "it's the greatest scheme that
ever was."
"Yes," said Mr Cowlishaw, "but it would be unprofessional."
Mr Rannoch was himself a professional. "Oh, well," he said
sarcastically, "if you're one of those amateurs--"
"I'll put you the job in as low as possible," said Mr Cowlishaw,
persuasively.
But Scotchmen are not to be persuaded like that.
Mr Rannoch wrapped up his teeth and left.
What finally happened to those teeth Mr Cowlishaw never knew. But he
satisfied himself that they were not advertised in the _Signal_.