Bill. “My toof ache so, I didn’t tink to knock. Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de Doctor?”
Cato. “Here I is; don’t you see me?”
Bill. “What! you de Doctor, you brack cuss! You looks like a doctor! Oh, my toof! my toof! Whar is de Doctor?”
Cato. “I tells you I is de doctor. Ef you don’t believe me, ax dese men. I can pull your toof in a minnit.”
Bill. “Well, den, pull it out. Oh, my toof! how it aches! Oh, my toof!” [Cato gets the rusty turnkeys.]
Cato. “Now lay down on your back.”
Bill. “What for?”
Cato. “Dat’s de way massa does.”
Bill. “Oh, my toof! Well, den, come on.” [Lies down. Cato gets astraddle of Bill’s breast, puts the turnkeys on the wrong tooth, and pulls—Bill kicks, and cries out]—Oh, do stop! Oh, oh, oh! [Cato pulls the wrong tooth—Bill jumps up.]
Cato. “Dar, now, I tole you I could pull your toof for you.”