More--nearly twelve." "But it's the law." "What's the law ?" "That you can't practise, or call yourself doctor, unless you've got a diploma." "What's that--a diploma ?" "I don't know exactly.

It's a kind of paper that--that--oh, Mac, we're ruined." Trina's voice rose to a cry.
"What do you mean, Trina?
Ain't I a dentist?
Ain't I a doctor?
Look at my sign, and the gold tooth you gave me.

Why, I've been practising nearly twelve years." Trina shut her lips tightly, cleared her throat, and pretended to resettle a hair-pin at the back of her head.
"I guess it isn't as bad as that," she said, very quietly.

"Let's read this again.

'Herewith prohibited and enjoined from further continuing----'" She read to the end.
"Why, it isn't possible," she cried.