“Mumps? No, sah, I ain’t had no mumps.”
“Then maybe it was the measles?”
“No, sah, Massa Andy, I ain’t had no measles either.”
“That’s queer. Perhaps it was chilblains, or lumbago, or turtle-foot?”
“No, I ain’t had no chilblains nor no lumbago. But w’at’s dat turtle-foot? I ain’t never done hear of him.”
“Never heard of turtle-foot?” demanded the fun-loving Rover boy. “Now isn’t that strange! I thought you were brought up in a place where everybody had turtle-foot once in a while. Your nose looks just as if you’d had it. And just look at your ears! They’re all curled up like dead leaves. Don’t feel as if you wanted to see a doctor or an undertaker, do you, Aleck?”
“Say, w’at you want to do? Scare dis nigger out of his life?” questioned Aleck, his eyes as big as saucers. “I doan feel nothin’ the matter with my ears,” and he felt of both ears carefully. “An’ my nose seems all right, too,” he went on.
“All right. I only wanted to know. We can’t afford to have anything happen to the best looking colored man on the farm,” returned Andy, with great seriousness.
“Say, you’re only jokin’, Massa Andy. You is jest like your dad before you. He was always botherin’ the life out o’ dis coon. But he was a nice boy—yes, sah, he was. An’ he’s a nice man, too,” added Aleck, hastily.