"Come," he said with boyish gayety, "let's hear your plans, old man.

To begin with, who's to share them with you?
Of course there are 'the old folks at home' first; then you have brothers--and perhaps sisters ?" He stopped and glanced with a smile at Uncle Ben; the idea of there being a possible female of his species struck his fancy.
Uncle Ben, who had hitherto always exercised a severe restraint--partly from respect and partly from caution--over his long limbs in the school-house, here slowly lifted one leg over another bench, and sat himself astride of it, leaning forward on his elbow, his chin resting between his hands.
"As far as the old folks goes, Mr.Ford, I'm a kind of an orphan." "A KIND of orphan ?" echoed Ford.
"Yes," said Uncle Ben, leaning heavily on his chin, so that the action of his jaws with the enunciation of each word slightly jerked his head forward as if he were imparting confidential information to the bench before him.

"Yes, that is, you see, I'm all right ez far as the old man goes--HE'S dead; died way back in Mizzouri.

But ez to my mother, it's sorter betwixt and between--kinder unsartain.

You see, Mr.Ford, she went off with a city feller--an entire stranger to me--afore the old man died, and that's wot broke up my schoolin'.