were very discouraging.

"It looks like the tracks of a crazy ant," she said, half laughing.

"If you practise faithfully for a few days you will find they will look
like the tracks of a very sane ant," said grandma. "And, besides, think
how much easier it is to learn to write with your left hand than with
your toes."

"With your _toes_, grandma," came in a united chorus.

"Yes, with your toes. I knew of a man, once, who was born without any
arms, and--"

"No arms at all? Not one?"

"Not one," answered grandma, smiling on her eager questioner. "He was
the son of a very poor woman here in the village. They lived in that
little red cottage on the Bainbridge road, where you turn by the four
oaks."

"Without any arms! Did he have shoulders?" asked Cricket.

"Oh, yes, indeed. I saw them often when he was a baby--bare, I mean. The
shoulder ended smoothly where the arms should be. He grew up a very
bright little fellow. Running barefoot all the time, as he did, I
suppose he learned to pick up things with his toes very naturally. At
any rate, when he was eight years old he could even handle his knife and
fork with his toes."

"Ugh!" shuddered Eunice, "Did he sit on the table?"

"No, not quite so bad as that. He sat on a little low stool, and his
plate was put on the floor in front of him. He would pick up his knife
and fork, cut up his meat, and feed himself as deftly as possible. It
was very funny."

"Think of washing his feet before dinner, instead of his hands!" giggled
Cricket.

"Could he get his feet right up to his mouth?" asked Eunice.

"Yes, easily. He was very limber."

Zaidee instantly sat down on the piazza floor and attempted the
performance.

"It most cracks my back," she said, getting up and trying to reach
around behind herself to rub it.

"_I_ could do it," said supple Cricket, who could sit on the floor and
put her legs around her neck.

"He went to the district school," went on grandma, "and learned to read
very quickly, and his mental arithmetic was really wonderful. Long
examples that the others did on their slates, he did almost as quickly
in his head. One year, they had a very good, patient teacher, who,
noticing how deftly he picked up all sorts of things with his toes, had
the bright idea of teaching him to write by holding his pen between his
toes. Now his toes, by constant using, had grown longer and slenderer
than most people's, and in a very short time he could guide a pencil