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Updated: May 16, 2025
However, while the unfortunate Irish comedian went through his "act" to the backs of the departing people, Mrs. Sieppe woke Owgooste, very cross and sleepy, and began getting her "things together." As soon as he was awake Owgooste began fidgeting again. "Save der brogramme, Trina," whispered Mrs. Sieppe. "Take ut home to popper. Where is der hat of Owgooste? Haf you got mein handkerchief, Trina?"
Suddenly Marcus fell calm again, forgetting his pose all in an instant. "Say, Mac, I told my cousin Trina to come round and see you about that tooth of her's. She'll be in to-morrow, I guess." After his breakfast the following Monday morning, McTeague looked over the appointments he had written down in the book-slate that hung against the screen.
It was the Tooth the famous golden molar with its huge prongs his sign, his ambition, the one unrealized dream of his life; and it was French gilt, too, not the cheap German gilt that was no good. Ah, what a dear little woman was this Trina, to keep so quiet, to remember his birthday!
It was like some colossal brute trapped in a delicate, invisible mesh, raging, exasperated, powerless to extricate himself. Marcus Schouler said nothing. There was a long silence. Marcus got up and walked to the window and stood looking out, but seeing nothing. "Well, who would have thought of this?" he muttered under his breath. Here was a fix. Marcus cared for Trina.
She gave him half a dollar from her dress pocket, protesting that it was the only piece of money she had. "One more, just for luck," said McTeague, pinching her again; "and another." "How can you how CAN you hurt a woman so!" exclaimed Trina, beginning to cry with the pain. "Ah, now, CRY," retorted the dentist. "That's right, CRY. I never saw such a little fool."
"Your number was 400,012. Here it is in the paper this evening. I remember it well, because I keep an account." "But I know you're wrong," answered Trina, beginning to tremble in spite of herself. "Why should I win?" "Eh? Why shouldn't you?" cried her mother. In fact, why shouldn't she? The idea suddenly occurred to Trina. After all, it was not a question of effort or merit on her part.
McTeague and Trina were puzzled. What could it all mean? Did Marcus want to become reconciled to his enemy? "I know." Trina said to herself. "He's going away, and he wants to borrow some money. He won't get a penny, not a penny." She set her teeth together hard. "Well," said Marcus, "how's business, Doctor?" "Oh," said McTeague, uneasily, "oh, I don' know.
Scarlet to her hair, Trina dropped into a chair and laughed till she cried behind her handkerchief. "We've no use of toys," muttered McTeague, looking at her in perplexity. Old Grannis smiled discreetly, raising a tremulous hand to his chin. The other box was heavy, bound with withes at the edges, the letters and stamps burnt in.
"That was a Sacramento train," said Marcus to Selina as they started off; "it was, for a fact." "I know a girl in Sacramento," Trina told McTeague. "She's forewoman in a glove store, and she's got consumption." "I was in Sacramento once," observed McTeague, "nearly eight years ago." "Is it a nice place as nice as San Francisco?" "It's hot. I practised there for a while."
But the Holy Spirit had yet a greater torment in store for her, if that were possible. For, after the sermon, a consistorium was held in the church upon a grievous sinner named Trina Wolken, who, it appeared, had many times done penance for her unchaste life, but had in no wise amended. And she heard the priest asking, "Who accuseth this woman?"
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