It proved that Miss Eyester was not over-sanguine for, finally, with the aid of divers tools and implements, Pinkey was able to spit out the last particle of the plaster of Paris.
"I s'pose the story'll go all over the country and make me ridic'lous," he said, gloomily. Feeling the corners of his mouth tenderly: "I thought at first I'd choke to death before I'd let anybody see me. What I'll do to that cook," his eyes gleaming, "won't stand repeatin'. And if anybody dast say 'teeth' to me----"
"Whatever made you do it?"
Too angry for finesse, Pinkey replied bluntly: "I done it fer you. I thought you'd like me better if I had teeth, and now I s'pose you can't ever look at me without laughin'."
Miss Eyester flipped a bit of plaster from his shirtsleeve with her thumb and finger.
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt your feelings, ever."
"Never?"
"Never."
"Then don't you go ridin' again with that old gummer."
"Do you care, really?" shyly.
"I'll tell the world I do!"
Miss Eyester fibbed without a pang of conscience: "I never dreamed it."
"I thought you wouldn't look at anybody unless they had money--you bein' rich 'n' ever'thing."
"In the winter I earn my living cataloguing books in a public library. I hate it."
Pinkey laid an arm about her thin shoulders.
"Say, what's the chanct of gittin' along with you f'rever an' ever?"
"Pretty good," replied Miss Eyester, candidly.