“A dollar a day,” I said. “So, dat be two hunnert days.” “Two hundred performances,” he corrected me. “One hunnert ninedy-nine,” I said. Emmett’s silence was palpable. “Suh, I’s tryin’ to unnerstan’. You sayin’ you is makin’ a ’stinction ’tween chattel slavery ’n’ bonded slavery?” I didn’t think I’d meant to actually ask that question out loud, but I must have, because I said it in proper and appropriate slave diction. Emmett looked at me askance. “Would you mind repeating that?” “I reckon I would,” I said.
