"I might lame you for life, and make you lots of trouble." "O, bother! what business is that of yours?
They're my toes, and I want 'em off.

They hurt me so I can't sleep.

Come, now, take the shears and cut 'em off." I yielded, and taking the shears, snipped one tendon after another, close to the feet, and in a few seconds had the whole ten toes lying in a heap at the bottom of the dug-out.

I picked them up and handed them to their owner, who gazed at them, complacently, and remarked: "Well, I'm darned glad they're off.

I won't be bothered with corns any more, I flatter myself.".