"I don't know which one hurts," Speedy said boldly. "They all hurt. Look them over."
The dentist had moved over in front of him and Speedy had to look around the tooth-jerker's bulky frame in order to maintain his sight of the precious scoreboard. Out of a corner of his eyes the youth now saw the white-coated dentist lift a small hand glass and a slim, wicked looking little steel instrument from the drawer of the near-by cabinet. He bade Harold open his mouth wide and began a careful examination of the boy's teeth, gazing through the glass and prodding with the sharp tool. Luckily the dentist stood to one side as he conducted his search, and Harold had carefully elevated his head so that he could follow the proxy baseball game across the street.
"Hey-y-y!" suddenly yelled Speedy.
"Hurt you?" asked the dentist with the grim satisfaction of making a discovery. "Is that the one?"
"No—no," hastily answered Speedy. "Grabowski hit a three bagger!"
The tooth surgeon shot a quick, penetrating glance at Harold.
"Your teeth all seem to be in splendid condition," said the dentist with the air of dismissing his patient.
"Oh, they can't be!" cried Speedy, panic-stricken at the thought of being driven from his vantage point at this critical stage of the game. "O-o-oh, there it goes hurting me again," he fairly yelled, clutching at his jaw.
