"No bother at all," Dad said; but Joe sat down, and Dad scowled at him.

Then Dad got talking about wheat and wallabies--when, all at once, the pressman gave a jump that rattled the things on the table.

"Oh-h-h!...I'VE got it now!" he said, dropping his knife and fork and clapping his hands over his mouth. "Ooh!"

We looked at him. "Got what?" Dad asked, a gleam of satisfaction appearing in his eyes.

"The toothache!--the d----d toothache!...Oh-h!"

"Ha! ha! Hoo! hoo! hoo!" Dad roared. In fact, we all roared--all but the pressman. "OH-H!" he said, and went to the fire. Dad laughed some more.

We ate on. The pressman continued to moan.

Dad turned on his seat. "What paper, mister, do you say you come from?"

(Editor：hot)