Andy disregarded the shot, and prinked himself before the mirror:
"Don't yer think my complexion's gettin' little better, sah?"
Tom picked up a book with a smile:
"You do look a little pale to-day, but I think that's your liver!"
Andy broke into a laugh:
"Nasah. Dat ain't my liver!"
"Must be!"
"Nasah! I got er patent bleacher frum New York dat's gwine ter make me white ef I kin des buy enough of it."
"How much have you used?"
"Hain't used but six bottles yit. Hit costs three dollars a bottle"—he paused and rubbed his hands smoothingly over his head. "Don't yer think my hair's gittin' straighter, sah?"