He had besides, an enormous pack on his back.

Molly's eyes, always wholly devoted to the business of seeing, observed
all this.

But she only remarked, "What makes your face so _rusty_?"

Perhaps he didn't hear her; anyway he repeated his cry, "Brothers for
sale? Got any brothers for sale?" and was moving on when Molly's piping
voice screamed after him, "Tell yer _yes_; dot a plenty!"

This time he stood still.

"Dot one, two, free--many's _ten_ I fink. Tommy, he's naughty, calls my
rag dolly a meal-bag--I'll sell him. He's a drefful wicked boy; he snaps
beans at the teacher and gets a whipping every single day."

"I'll take him," said the big man. "How much shall I pay you--what shall
I give you for him?"

"A han'kercher with some _perfoomery_ on it."

"Yes, yes, here you have it," he said, and taking a great bottle from
his belt, and a little blue-bordered handkerchief from one pocket, he
sprinkled it profusely with some real cologne and gave it to the
delighted child.

"Any more brothers for sale, little girl? I'm in want of some boys?"