“Well, my boy, what’s your name?”
Sam. “Sam, sir, is my name.”
Walk. “How old are you, Sam?”
Sam. “Ef I live to see next corn plantin’ time I’ll be twenty-seven, or thirty, or thirty-five,—I don’t know which, sir.”
Walk. “Ha, ha, ha! Well, Doctor, this is rather a green boy. Well, mer feller, are you sound?”
Sam. “Yes, sir, I spec I is.”
Walk. “Open your mouth and let me see your teeth. I allers judge a nigger’s age by his teeth, same as I dose a hoss. Ah! pretty good set of grinders. Have you got a good appetite?”
Sam. “Yes, sir.”
Walk. “Can you eat your allowance?”
Sam. “Yes, sir, when I can get it.”