India 2001 books

She pushed unwilling Jo into a chair, produced
a pair of pincers, and, oh, woe! she wrenched to the north, she wrenched
to the south, she wrenched to the east, and there was the tooth, nearly
as big as the dentist herself.
"I never can eat Serbian meat again," murmured Jo as she mopped her
mouth.
After tea we returned to the S.D.W.O., and by means of our letter and
our Englishness we got in front of all the unfortunate people who had
been waiting for hours, and received our passes, etc., immediately.
Sir Ralph Paget's storekeeper wouldn't work on Sunday, so we had also
to rest, and we celebrated by staying in bed late and going for a walk
in the afternoon with an Englishman who was _en route_ for Sofia. We
came to a little village where every house was surrounded by high walls
made of wattle. The women soon crowded round, imagining Mr. B---- a
doctor. Jo pretended to translate, and gave advice for a girl with
consumption, and an old woman whose hand was stiff from typhus, and we
had to give the money for the latter's unguent.


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