“What in the world does this mean, Amos? Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“Don’t you bodder ’bout whar I git dat. Dese is mah Sunday clo’es.”
“This isn’t Sunday. What’d you dress up that way for?”
“Whar I gwine leab ’em? I ain’t no trunk. I ain’t gwine leab dese garmens’ in no liberty stable.”
Morey laughed.
“You’re pretty gay for a boy who hasn’t a cent!”
“Cain’t I hab ten cents, Marse Morey?”
“What do you want ten cents for? You’ve eaten.”
“I allays has some cin’mon draps w’en I’s dressed up. An’ I wants one dem cahds, one of dem pitcher cahds, to send back to pa at de Co’ht House.”