Chapter 18

by Frank Norris

　　That same night McTeague was awakened by a shrill scream,and woke to find Trina's arms around his neck. She wastrembling so that the bed-springs creaked."Huh?" cried the dentist, sitting up in bed, raising hisclinched fists. "Huh? What? What? What is it? What isit?""Oh, Mac," gasped his wife, "I had such an awful dream. Idreamed about Maria. I thought she was chasing me, and Icouldn't run, and her throat was--Oh, she was all coveredwith blood. Oh-h, I am so frightened!"Trina had borne up very well for the first day or so afterthe affair, and had given her testimony to the coroner withfar greater calmness than Heise. It was only a week laterthat the horror of the thing came upon her again. She wasso nervous that she hardly dared to be alone in the daytime,and almost every night woke with a cry of terror, tremblingwith the recollection of some dreadful nightmare. Thedentist was irritated beyond all expression by hernervousness, and especially was he exasperated when hercries woke him suddenly in the middle of the night. Hewould sit up in bed, rolling his eyes wildly, throwing outhis huge fists--at what, he did not know--exclaiming, "Whatwhat--" bewildered and hopelessly confused. Then whenhe realized that it was only Trina, his anger kindledabruptly."Oh, you and your dreams! You go to sleep, or I'll give youa dressing down." Sometimes he would hit her a great thwackwith his open palm, or catch her hand and bite the tips ofher fingers. Trina would lie awake for hours afterward,crying softly to herself. Then, by and by, "Mac," she wouldsay timidly."Huh?""Mac, do you love me?""Huh? What? Go to sleep.""Don't you love me any more, Mac?""Oh, go to sleep. Don't bother me.""Well, do you love me, Mac?""I guess so.""Oh, Mac, I've only you now, and if you don't love me, whatis going to become of me?""Shut up, an' let me go to sleep.""Well, just tell me that you love me."The dentist would turn abruptly away from her, burying hisbig blond head in the pillow, and covering up his ears withthe blankets. Then Trina would sob herself to sleep.The dentist had long since given up looking for a job.Between breakfast and supper time Trina saw but little ofhim. Once the morning meal over, McTeague bestirredhimself, put on his cap--he had given up wearing even a hatsince his wife had made him sell his silk hat--and went out.He had fallen into the habit of taking long and solitarywalks beyond the suburbs of the city. Sometimes it was tothe Cliff House, occasionally to the Park (where he wouldsit on the sun-warmed benches, smoking his pipe and readingragged ends of old newspapers), but more often it was to thePresidio Reservation. McTeague would walk out to the end ofthe Union Street car line, entering the Reservation at theterminus, then he would work down to the shore of the bay,follow the shore line to the Old Fort at the Golden Gate,and, turning the Point here, come out suddenly upon the fullsweep of the Pacific. Then he would follow the beachdown to a certain point of rocks that he knew. Here hewould turn inland, climbing the bluffs to a rolling grassydown sown with blue iris and a yellow flower that he did notknow the name of. On the far side of this down was a broad,well-kept road. McTeague would keep to this road until hereached the city again by the way of the Sacramento Streetcar line. The dentist loved these walks. He liked to bealone. He liked the solitude of the tremendous, tumblingocean; the fresh, windy downs; he liked to feel the gustyTrades flogging his face, and he would remain for hourswatching the roll and plunge of the breakers with thesilent, unreasoned enjoyment of a child. All at once hedeveloped a passion for fishing. He would sit all daynearly motionless upon a point of rocks, his fish-linebetween his fingers, happy if he caught three perch intwelve hours. At noon he would retire to a bit of levelturf around an angle of the shore and cook his fish, eatingthem without salt or knife or fork. He thrust a pointedstick down the mouth of the perch, and turned it slowly overthe blaze. When the grease stopped dripping, he knew thatit was done, and would devour it slowly and with tremendousrelish, picking the bones clean, eating even the head. Heremembered how often he used to do this sort of thing whenhe was a boy in the mountains of Placer County, before hebecame a car-boy at the mine. The dentist enjoyed himselfhugely during these days. The instincts of the old-timeminer were returning. In the stress of his misfortuneMcTeague was lapsing back to his early estate.One evening as he reached home after such a tramp, he wassurprised to find Trina standing in front of what had beenZerkow's house, looking at it thoughtfully, her finger onher lips."What you doing here'?" growled the dentist as he came up.There was a "Rooms-to-let" sign on the street door of thehouse."Now we've found a place to move to," exclaimed Trina."What?" cried McTeague. "There, in that dirty house, whereyou found Maria?""I can't afford that room in the flat any more, now that youcan't get any work to do.""But there's where Zerkow killed Maria--the very house--an' you wake up an' squeal in the night just thinking ofit.""I know. I know it will be bad at first, but I'll get usedto it, an' it's just half again as cheap as where we arenow. I was looking at a room; we can have it dirt cheap.It's a back room over the kitchen. A German family aregoing to take the front part of the house and sublet therest. I'm going to take it. It'll be money in my pocket.""But it won't be any in mine," vociferated the dentist,angrily. "I'll have to live in that dirty rat hole justso's you can save money. I ain't any the better off forit.""Find work to do, and then we'll talk," declared Trina."I'M going to save up some money against a rainy day; and ifI can save more by living here I'm going to do it, even ifit is the house Maria was killed in. I don't care.""All right," said McTeague, and did not make any furtherprotest. His wife looked at him surprised. She could notunderstand this sudden acquiescence. Perhaps McTeague wasso much away from home of late that he had ceased to carewhere or how he lived. But this sudden change troubled hera little for all that.The next day the McTeagues moved for a second time. It didnot take them long. They were obliged to buy the bed fromthe landlady, a circumstance which nearly broke Trina'sheart; and this bed, a couple of chairs, Trina's trunk, anornament or two, the oil stove, and some plates and kitchenware were all that they could call their own now; and thisback room in that wretched house with its grisly memories,the one window looking out into a grimy maze of back yardsand broken sheds, was what they now knew as their home.The McTeagues now began to sink rapidly lower and lower.They became accustomed to their surroundings. Worst of all,Trina lost her pretty ways and her good looks. The combinedeffects of hard work, avarice, poor food, and her husband'sbrutalities told on her swiftly. Her charming little figuregrew coarse, stunted, and dumpy. She who had once been of acatlike neatness, now slovened all day about the roomin a dirty flannel wrapper, her slippers clap-clapping afterher as she walked. At last she even neglected her hair, thewonderful swarthy tiara, the coiffure of a queen, thatshaded her little pale forehead. In the morning she braidedit before it was half combed, and piled and coiled it abouther head in haphazard fashion. It came down half a dozentimes a day; by evening it was an unkempt, tangled mass, averitable rat's nest.Ah, no, it was not very gay, that life of hers, when one hadto rustle for two, cook and work and wash, to say nothing ofpaying the rent. What odds was it if she was slatternly,dirty, coarse? Was there time to make herself lookotherwise, and who was there to be pleased when she was allprinked out? Surely not a great brute of a husband who bityou like a dog, and kicked and pounded you as though youwere made of iron. Ah, no, better let things go, and takeit as easy as you could. Hump your back, and it was soonestover.The one room grew abominably dirty, reeking with the odorsof cooking and of "non-poisonous" paint. The bed was notmade until late in the afternoon, sometimes not at all.Dirty, unwashed crockery, greasy knives, sodden fragments ofyesterday's meals cluttered the table, while in one cornerwas the heap of evil-smelling, dirty linen. Cockroachesappeared in the crevices of the woodwork, the wall-paperbulged from the damp walls and began to peel. Trina hadlong ago ceased to dust or to wipe the furniture with a bitof rag. The grime grew thick upon the window panes and inthe corners of the room. All the filth of the alley invadedtheir quarters like a rising muddy tide.Between the windows, however, the faded photograph of thecouple in their wedding finery looked down upon thewretchedness, Trina still holding her set bouquet straightbefore her, McTeague standing at her side, his left footforward, in the attitude of a Secretary of State; while nearby hung the canary, the one thing the dentist clung toobstinately, piping and chittering all day in its littlegilt prison.And the tooth, the gigantic golden molar of French gilt,enormous and ungainly, sprawled its branching prongs inone corner of the room, by the footboard of the bed. TheMcTeague's had come to use it as a sort of substitute for atable. After breakfast and supper Trina piled the platesand greasy dishes upon it to have them out of the way.One afternoon the Other Dentist, McTeague's old-time rival,the wearer of marvellous waistcoats, was surprised out ofall countenance to receive a visit from McTeague. The OtherDentist was in his operating room at the time, at work upona plaster-of-paris mould. To his call of "'Come right in.Don't you see the sign, 'Enter without knocking'?" McTeaguecame in. He noted at once how airy and cheerful was theroom. A little fire coughed and tittered on the hearth, abrindled greyhound sat on his haunches watching it intently,a great mirror over the mantle offered to view an array ofactresses' pictures thrust between the glass and the frame,and a big bunch of freshly-cut violets stood in a glass bowlon the polished cherrywood table. The Other Dentist cameforward briskly, exclaiming cheerfully:"Oh, Doctor--Mister McTeague, how do? how do?"The fellow was actually wearing a velvet smoking jacket. Acigarette was between his lips; his patent leather bootsreflected the firelight. McTeague wore a black surahneglige shirt without a cravat; huge buckled brogans, hob-nailed, gross, encased his feet; the hems of his trouserswere spotted with mud; his coat was frayed at the sleevesand a button was gone. In three days he had not shaved; hisshock of heavy blond hair escaped from beneath the visor ofhis woollen cap and hung low over his forehead. He stoodwith awkward, shifting feet and uncertain eyes before thedapper young fellow who reeked of the barber shop, and whomhe had once ordered from his rooms."What can I do for you this morning, Mister McTeague?Something wrong with the teeth, eh?""No, no." McTeague, floundering in the difficulties of hisspeech, forgot the carefully rehearsed words with which hehad intended to begin this interview."I want to sell you my sign," he said, stupidly. "That bigtooth of French gilt--you know--that you made anoffer for once.""Oh, I don't want that now," said the other loftily. "Iprefer a little quiet signboard, nothing pretentious--justthe name, and "Dentist" after it. These big signs arevulgar. No, I don't want it."McTeague remained, looking about on the floor, horriblyembarrassed, not knowing whether to go or to stay."But I don't know," said the Other Dentist, reflectively."If it will help you out any--I guess you're pretty hard up--I'll--well, I tell you what--I'll give you five dollars forit.""All right, all right."On the following Thursday morning McTeague woke to hear theeaves dripping and the prolonged rattle of the rain upon theroof."Raining," he growled, in deep disgust, sitting up in bed,and winking at the blurred window."It's been raining all night," said Trina. She was alreadyup and dressed, and was cooking breakfast on the oil stove.McTeague dressed himself, grumbling, "Well, I'll go, anyhow.The fish will bite all the better for the rain.""Look here, Mac," said Trina, slicing a bit of bacon asthinly as she could. "Look here, why don't you bring someof your fish home sometime?""Huh!" snorted the dentist, "so's we could have 'em forbreakfast. Might save you a nickel, mightn't it?""Well, and if it did! Or you might fish for the market.The fisherman across the street would buy 'em of you.""Shut up!" exclaimed the dentist, and Trina obedientlysubsided."Look here," continued her husband, fumbling in his trouserspocket and bringing out a dollar, "I'm sick and tired ofcoffee and bacon and mashed potatoes. Go over to the marketand get some kind of meat for breakfast. Get a steak, orchops, or something."Why, Mac, that's a whole dollar, and he only gave you fivefor your sign. We can't afford it. Sure, Mac. Let me putthat money away against a rainy day. You're just aswell off without meat for breakfast.""You do as I tell you. Get some steak, or chops, orsomething.""Please, Mac, dear.""Go on, now. I'll bite your fingers again pretty soon.""But----"The dentist took a step towards her, snatching at her hand."All right, I'll go," cried Trina, wincing and shrinking."I'll go."She did not get the chops at the big market, however.Instead, she hurried to a cheaper butcher shop on a sidestreet two blocks away, and bought fifteen cents' worth ofchops from a side of mutton some two or three days old. Shewas gone some little time."Give me the change," exclaimed the dentist as soon as shereturned. Trina handed him a quarter; and when McTeague wasabout to protest, broke in upon him with a rapid stream oftalk that confused him upon the instant. But for thatmatter, it was never difficult for Trina to deceive thedentist. He never went to the bottom of things. He wouldhave believed her if she had told him the chops had cost adollar."There's sixty cents saved, anyhow," thought Trina, as sheclutched the money in her pocket to keep it from rattling.Trina cooked the chops, and they breakfasted in silence."Now," said McTeague as he rose, wiping the coffee from histhick mustache with the hollow of his palm, "now I'm goingfishing, rain or no rain. I'm going to be gone all day."He stood for a moment at the door, his fish-line in hishand, swinging the heavy sinker back and forth. He lookedat Trina as she cleared away the breakfast things."So long," said he, nodding his huge square-cut head. Thisamiability in the matter of leave taking was unusual. Trinaput the dishes down and came up to him, her little chin,once so adorable, in the air:"Kiss me good-by, Mac," she said, putting her arms aroundhis neck. "You do love me a little yet, don't you,Mac? We'll be happy again some day. This is hard timesnow, but we'll pull out. You'll find something to do prettysoon.""I guess so," growled McTeague, allowing her to kisshim.The canary was stirring nimbly in its cage, and just nowbroke out into a shrill trilling, its little throat bulgingand quivering. The dentist stared at it. "Say," he remarkedslowly, "I think I'll take that bird of mine along.""Sell it?" inquired Trina."Yes, yes, sell it.""Well, you are coming to your senses at last," answeredTrina, approvingly. "But don't you let the bird-store mancheat you. That's a good songster; and with the cage, youought to make him give you five dollars. You stick out forthat at first, anyhow."McTeague unhooked the cage and carefully wrapped it in anold newspaper, remarking, "He might get cold. Well, solong," he repeated, "so long.""Good-by, Mac."When he was gone, Trina took the sixty cents she had stolenfrom him out of her pocket and recounted it. "It's sixtycents, all right," she said proudly. "But I do believethat dime is too smooth." She looked at it critically. Theclock on the power-house of the Sutter Street cable struckeight. "Eight o'clock already," she exclaimed. "I must getto work." She cleared the breakfast things from the table,and drawing up her chair and her workbox began painting thesets of Noah's ark animals she had whittled the day before.She worked steadily all the morning. At noon she lunched,warming over the coffee left from breakfast, and frying acouple of sausages. By one she was bending over her tableagain. Her fingers--some of them lacerated by McTeague'steeth--flew, and the little pile of cheap toys in the basketat her elbow grew steadily."Where do all the toys go to?" she murmured. "Thethousands and thousands of these Noah's arks that I havemade--horses and chickens and elephants--and always therenever seems to be enough. It's a good thing for me thatchildren break their things, and that they all have tohave birthdays and Christmases." She dipped her brush intoa pot of Vandyke brown and painted one of the whittled toyhorses in two strokes. Then a touch of ivory black with asmall flat brush created the tail and mane, and dots ofChinese white made the eyes. The turpentine in the paintdried it almost immediately, and she tossed the completedlittle horse into the basket.At six o'clock the dentist had not returned. Trina waiteduntil seven, and then put her work away, and ate her supperalone."I wonder what's keeping Mac," she exclaimed as the clockfrom the power-house on Sutter Street struck half-pastseven. "I know he's drinking somewhere," she cried,apprehensively. "He had the money from his sign with him."At eight o'clock she threw a shawl over her head and wentover to the harness shop. If anybody would know whereMcTeague was it would be Heise. But the harness-maker hadseen nothing of him since the day before."He was in here yesterday afternoon, and we had a drink ortwo at Frenna's. Maybe he's been in there to-day.""Oh, won't you go in and see?" said Trina. "Mac always camehome to his supper--he never likes to miss his meals--andI'm getting frightened about him."Heise went into the barroom next door, and returned with nodefinite news. Frenna had not seen the dentist since he hadcome in with the harness-maker the previous afternoon.Trina even humbled herself to ask of the Ryers--with whomthey had quarrelled--if they knew anything of the dentist'swhereabouts, but received a contemptuous negative."Maybe he's come in while I've been out," said Trina toherself. She went down Polk Street again, going towards theflat. The rain had stopped, but the sidewalks were stillglistening. The cable cars trundled by, loaded withtheatregoers. The barbers were just closing their shops.The candy store on the corner was brilliantly lighted andwas filling up, while the green and yellow lamps from thedrug store directly opposite threw kaleidoscopic reflectionsdeep down into the shining surface of the asphalt. Aband of Salvationists began to play and pray in frontof Frenna's saloon. Trina hurried on down the gay street,with its evening's brilliancy and small activities, hershawl over her head, one hand lifting her faded skirt fromoff the wet pavements. She turned into the alley, enteredZerkow's old home by the ever-open door, and ran up-stairsto the room. Nobody."Why, isn't this funny," she exclaimed, half aloud,standing on the threshold, her little milk-white foreheadcurdling to a frown, one sore finger on her lips. Then agreat fear seized upon her. Inevitably she associated thehouse with a scene of violent death."No, no," she said to the darkness, "Mac is all right.He can take care of himself." But for all that she had aclear-cut vision of her husband's body, bloated with sea-water, his blond hair streaming like kelp, rolling inertlyin shifting waters."He couldn't have fallen off the rocks," she declaredfirmly. "There--there he is now." She heaved a greatsigh of relief as a heavy tread sounded in the hallwaybelow. She ran to the banisters, looking over, and calling,"Oh, Mac! Is that you, Mac?" It was the German whosefamily occupied the lower floor. The power-house clockstruck nine."My God, where is Mac?" cried Trina, stamping her foot.She put the shawl over her head again, and went out andstood on the corner of the alley and Polk Street, watchingand waiting, craning her neck to see down the street. Once,even, she went out upon the sidewalk in front of the flatand sat down for a moment upon the horse-block there. Shecould not help remembering the day when she had been drivenup to that horse-block in a hack. Her mother and father andOwgooste and the twins were with her. It was her weddingday. Her wedding dress was in a huge tin trunk on thedriver's seat. She had never been happier before in all herlife. She remembered how she got out of the hack and stoodfor a moment upon the horse-block, looking up at McTeague'swindows. She had caught a glimpse of him at his shaving,the lather still on his cheek, and they had waved theirhands at each other. Instinctively Trina looked up at theflat behind her; looked up at the bay window where herhusband's "Dental Parlors" had been. It was all dark; thewindows had the blind, sightless appearance imparted byvacant, untenanted rooms. A rusty iron rod projectedmournfully from one of the window ledges."There's where our sign hung once," said Trina. She turnedher head and looked down Polk Street towards where the OtherDentist had his rooms, and there, overhanging the streetfrom his window, newly furbished and brightened, hung thehuge tooth, her birthday present to her husband, flashingand glowing in the white glare of the electric lights like abeacon of defiance and triumph."Ah, no; ah, no," whispered Trina, choking back a sob."Life isn't so gay. But I wouldn't mind, no I wouldn't mindanything, if only Mac was home all right." She got up fromthe horse-block and stood again on the corner of the alley,watching and listening.It grew later. The hours passed. Trina kept at her post.The noise of approaching footfalls grew less and lessfrequent. Little by little Polk Street dropped back intosolitude. Eleven o'clock struck from the power-house clock;lights were extinguished; at one o'clock the cable stopped,leaving an abrupt and numbing silence in the air. All atonce it seemed very still. The only noises were theoccasional footfalls of a policeman and the persistentcalling of ducks and geese in the closed market across theway. The street was asleep.When it is night and dark, and one is awake and alone, one'sthoughts take the color of the surroundings; become gloomy,sombre, and very dismal. All at once an idea came to Trina,a dark, terrible idea; worse, even, than the idea ofMcTeague's death."Oh, no," she cried. "Oh, no. It isn't true. But suppose--suppose."She left her post and hurried back to the house."No, no," she was saying under her breath, "it isn'tpossible. Maybe he's even come home already by another way.But suppose--suppose--suppose."She ran up the stairs, opened the door of the room, andpaused, out of breath. The room was dark and empty. Withcold, trembling fingers she lighted the lamp, and, turningabout, looked at her trunk. The lock was burst."No, no, no," cried Trina, "it's not true; it's not true."She dropped on her knees before the trunk, and tossed backthe lid, and plunged her hands down into the cornerunderneath her wedding dress, where she always kept thesavings. The brass match-safe and the chamois-skin bag werethere. They were empty.Trina flung herself full length upon the floor, burying herface in her arms, rolling her head from side to side. Hervoice rose to a wail."No, no, no, it's not true; it's not true; it's not true.Oh, he couldn't have done it. Oh, how could he have doneit? All my money, all my little savings--and deserted me.He's gone, my money's gone, my dear money--my dear, deargold pieces that I've worked so hard for. Oh, to havedeserted me--gone for good--gone and never coming back--gonewith my gold pieces. Gone-gone--gone. I'll never see themagain, and I've worked so hard, so so hard for him--forthem. No, no, no, it's not true. It is true. Whatwill become of me now? Oh, if you'll only come back you canhave all the money--half of it. Oh, give me back my money.Give me back my money, and I'll forgive you. You can leaveme then if you want to. Oh, my money. Mac, Mac, you'vegone for good. You don't love me any more, and now I'm abeggar. My money's gone, my husband's gone, gone, gone,gone!"Her grief was terrible. She dug her nails into her scalp,and clutching the heavy coils of her thick black hair toreit again and again. She struck her forehead with herclenched fists. Her little body shook from head to foot withthe violence of her sobbing. She ground her small teethtogether and beat her head upon the floor with all herstrength.Her hair was uncoiled and hanging a tangled, dishevelledmass far below her waist; her dress was torn; a spot ofblood was upon her forehead; her eyes were swollen; hercheeks flamed vermilion from the fever that raged inher veins. Old Miss Baker found her thus towards fiveo'clock the next morning.What had happened between one o'clock and dawn of thatfearful night Trina never remembered. She could only recallherself, as in a picture, kneeling before her broken andrifled trunk, and then--weeks later, so it seemed to her--she woke to find herself in her own bed with an iced bandageabout her forehead and the little old dressmaker at herside, stroking her hot, dry palm.The facts of the matter were that the German woman who livedbelow had been awakened some hours after midnight by thesounds of Trina's weeping. She had come upstairs and intothe room to find Trina stretched face downward upon thefloor, half-conscious and sobbing, in the throes of anhysteria for which there was no relief. The woman,terrified, had called her husband, and between them they hadgot Trina upon the bed. Then the German woman happened toremember that Trina had friends in the big flat near by, andhad sent her husband to fetch the retired dressmaker, whileshe herself remained behind to undress Trina and put her tobed. Miss Baker had come over at once, and began to cryherself at the sight of the dentist's poor little wife. Shedid not stop to ask what the trouble was, and indeed itwould have been useless to attempt to get any coherentexplanation from Trina at that time. Miss Baker had sentthe German woman's husband to get some ice at one of the"all-night" restaurants of the street; had kept cold, wettowels on Trina's head; had combed and recombed herwonderful thick hair; and had sat down by the side of thebed, holding her hot hand, with its poor maimed fingers,waiting patiently until Trina should be able to speak.Towards morning Trina awoke--or perhaps it was a mereregaining of consciousness--looked a moment at Miss Baker,then about the room until her eyes fell upon her trunk withits broken lock. Then she turned over upon the pillow andbegan to sob again. She refused to answer any of the littledressmaker's questions, shaking her head violently, her facehidden in the pillow.By breakfast time her fever had increased to such a pointthat Miss Baker took matters into her own hands and had theGerman woman call a doctor. He arrived some twentyminutes later. He was a big, kindly fellow who lived overthe drug store on the corner. He had a deep voice and atremendous striding gait less suggestive of a physician thanof a sergeant of a cavalry troop.By the time of his arrival little Miss Baker had divinedintuitively the entire trouble. She heard the doctor'sswinging tramp in the entry below, and heard the Germanwoman saying:"Righd oop der stairs, at der back of der halle. Der roommit der door oppen."Miss Baker met the doctor at the landing, she told him in awhisper of the trouble."Her husband's deserted her, I'm afraid, doctor, and tookall of her money--a good deal of it. It's about killed thepoor child. She was out of her head a good deal of thenight, and now she's got a raging fever."The doctor and Miss Baker returned to the room and entered,closing the door. The big doctor stood for a moment lookingdown at Trina rolling her head from side to side upon thepillow, her face scarlet, her enormous mane of hair spreadout on either side of her. The little dressmaker remainedat his elbow, looking from him to Trina."Poor little woman!" said the doctor; "poor little woman!"Miss Baker pointed to the trunk, whispering:"See, there's where she kept her savings. See, he broke thelock.""Well, Mrs. McTeague," said the doctor, sitting down by thebed, and taking Trina's wrist, "a little fever, eh?"Trina opened her eyes and looked at him, and then at MissBaker. She did not seem in the least surprised at theunfamiliar faces. She appeared to consider it all as amatter of course."Yes," she said, with a long, tremulous breath, "I have afever, and my head--my head aches and aches."The doctor prescribed rest and mild opiates. Then his eyefell upon the fingers of Trina's right hand. He looked atthem sharply. A deep red glow, unmistakable to aphysician's eyes, was upon some of them, extending fromthe finger tips up to the second knuckle."Hello," he exclaimed, "what's the matter here?" In factsomething was very wrong indeed. For days Trina had noticedit. The fingers of her right hand had swollen as neverbefore, aching and discolored. Cruelly lacerated byMcTeague's brutality as they were, she had nevertheless goneon about her work on the Noah's ark animals, constantly incontact with the "non-poisonous" paint. She told as much tothe doctor in answer to his questions. He shook his headwith an exclamation."Why, this is blood-poisoning, you know," he told her; "theworst kind. You'll have to have those fingers amputated,beyond a doubt, or lose the entire hand--or even worse.""And my work!" exclaimed Trina.