I get the picture! I thought to myself. Well, damn all the health and virtue that these masters I run into find in staying hungry. I went over next to the door and took out of my shirt some pieces of bread that I still had from begging. When he saw this, he said to me, "Come here, boy. What are you eating?" I went over to him and showed him the bread. There were three pieces, and he took one--the biggest and best one. Then he said, "Well, well, this does look like good bread." "It is!" I said. "But tell me, sir, do you really think so now?" "Yes, I do," he said. "Where did you get it? I wonder if the baker had clean hands?" "I can't tell you that," I said, but it certainly doesn't taste bad." "Let's see if you're right," said my poor master. And he put it in his mouth and began to gobble it down as ferociously as I was doing with mine. "Bless me, this bread is absolutely delicious," he said. When I saw what tree he was barking up, I began to eat faster. Because I realized that if he finished before I did, he would be nice enough to help me with what was left. So we finished almost at the same time. And he began to brush off a few crumbs--very tiny ones--that were left on his shirt. Then he went into a little room nearby and brought out a chipped-up jug--not a very new one--and after he had drunk, he offered it to me. But, so I would look like a teetotaler, I said, "Sir, I don't drink wine." "It's water," he said. "You can drink that." Then I took the jug, and I drank. But not much, because being thirsty wasn't exactly my trouble. So that's how we spent the day until nighttime: him asking me questions and me answering as best I could. Then he took me to the room where the jug that we'd drunk from was, and he said to me, "Boy, get over there, and I'll show you how this bed is made up so that you'll be able to do it from now on."