"Well, I suppose they can't be wanted again," said the mother,
rubbing her forehead.

"Oh dear no!" said she of the red nose. "They are relics!" I
thought to leap forth; but for what purpose should I have leaped?
The accursed scissors had already done their work; and the symmetry,
nay, even the utility of the vestment was destroyed.

"General Chasse wore a very good article;--I will say that for him,"
continued the mother.

"Of course he did!" said the Queen Harpy. "Why should he not,
seeing that the country paid for it for him? Well, ladies, who's
for having a bit?"

"Oh my! you won't go for to cut them up," said the stout back.

"Won't I," said the scissors; and she immediately made another
incision. "Who's for having a bit? Don't all speak at once."

"I should like a morsel for a pincushion," said flaxen-haired Miss
No. 1, a young lady about nineteen, actuated by a general affection
for all sword-bearing, fire-eating heroes. "I should like to have
something to make me think of the poor general!"

Snip, snip went the scissors with professional rapidity, and a round
piece was extracted from the back of the calf of the left leg. I
shuddered with horror; and so did the Rev. Augustus Horne with cold.

"I hardly think it's proper to cut them up," said Miss No. 2.