“Why don’t you-all have it pulled?” asked Gogo.
“Ah say! Jimminie f-f-f-fishhooks!” exclaimed the Dunce. “That would hurt and I’d rather have the t-t-t-toothache.”
The poor Dunce was afraid to mention his toothache to the General for fear he would have the Doctor pull it out. He suffered for some time, but at last he could stand it no longer and one day he decided to ask advice.
“Oh, whillikers! Jimminie fishhooks, ouch!” he howled as he ran into the sitting room of the shoe house.
“Now what’s the matter?” asked the General.
“I-I-I-I’ve got the t-t-t-toothache!” wailed the Dunce, holding his hand over his jaw and dancing about on one foot.
“Well, find the Doctor and get attended to,” said the General.
The Dunce found the Doctor, and after he had carefully examined the aching tooth he told the Dunce it would have to be pulled.
“What!” shouted the Dunce. “Jimminie Christmas! I-I-I-I’d rather have the t-t-toothache.”
“All right, just as you like,” said the Doctor.