“Brack, mass’r; brack as a boot.”
“Is it straight hair?”
“No, mass’r—ob course not—Aurore am a quaderoom.”
“It curls?”
“Well, not dzactly like this hyar;” here Scipio pointed to his own kinky head-covering; “but for all daat, mass’r, it curls—what folks call de wave.”
“I understand; it falls down to her shoulders?”
“Daat it do, mass’r, down to de berry small ob her back.”
“Luxuriant?”
“What am dat, mass’r?”
“Thick—bushy.”