The Agricultural Reporter.
It had been a dull, miserable day, and a cold westerly was blowing. Dave and Joe were at the barn finishing up for the day.
Dad was inside grunting and groaning with toothache. He had had it a week, and was nearly mad. For a while he sat by the fire, prodding the tooth with his pocket-knife; then he covered his jaw with his hand and went out and walked about the yard.
Joe asked him if he had seen Nell's foal anywhere that day. He did n't answer.
"Did y' see the brown foal any place ter-day, Dad?""Damn the brown foal!"--and Dad went inside again.
He walked round and round the table and in and out the back room till Mother nearly cried with pity.
"Is n't it any easier at all, Father?" she said commiseratingly.
"How the devil can it be easier?...Oh-h!"The kangaroo-dog had coiled himself snugly on a bag before the fire. Dad kicked him savagely and told him to get out. The dog slunk sulkily to the door, his tail between his legs, and his back humped as if expecting another kick. He got it. Dad sat in the ashes then, and groaned lamentably. The dog walked in at the back door and dropped on the bag again.
Joe came in to say that "Two coves out there wants somethink."Dad paid no attention.
The two "coves"--a pressman, in new leggings, and Canty, the storekeeper--came in. Mother brought a light. Dad moaned, but did n't look up.
"Well, Mr. Rudd," the pressman commenced (he was young and fresh-looking), "I'm from the (something-or-other) office. I'm--er--after information about the crops round here. I suppose--er----""Oh-h-h!" Dad groaned, opening his mouth over the fire, and pressing the tooth hard with his thumb.
The pressman stared at him for awhile; then grinned at the storekeeper, and made a derisive face at Dad's back. Then--"What have you got in this season, Mr. Rudd? Wheat?""I don't know....Oh-h--it's awful!"
Another silence.
"Did n't think toothache so bad as THAT," said the man of news, airily, addressing Mother. "Never had it much myself, you see!"He looked at Dad again; then winked slyly at Canty, and said to Dad, in an altered tone: "Whisky's a good thing for it, old man, if you've got any."Nothing but a groan came from Dad, but Mother shook her head sadly in the negative.
"Any oil of tar?"
Mother brightened up. "There's a little oil in the house," she said, "but I don't know if we've any tar. Is there, Joe--in that old drum?""Nurh."
The Press looked out the window. Dad commenced to butcher his gums with the pocket-knife, and threatened to put the fire out with blood and saliva.
"Let's have a look at the tooth, old man," the pressman said, approaching Dad.
Dad submitted.
"Pooh!--I'll take that out in one act!"...To Joe--"Got a good strong piece of string?"Joe could n't find a piece of string, but produced a kangaroo-tail sinew that had been tied round a calf's neck.
The pressman was enthusiastic. He buzzed about and talked dentistry in a most learned manner. Then he had another squint at Dad's tooth.
"Sit on the floor here," he said, "and I won't be a second. You'll feel next to no pain."Dad complied like a lamb.
