He was very tall, wore a huge fur cap, and great coat that reached from his chin to his ankles.  The pockets were evidently so full that they bulged out on all sides, and his red belt was stuck full of every odd toy imaginable.

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?”

“Yes, sir!  You can have Johnny, he tears up my dolls and mamma lets him wear my bestest sash—­and the baby, he gets the coli’c and screams—­and Harry, he won’t bring in the wood for mamma, and he eats up my candy and has cookies for supper and I don’t, and—­”

“I’ll take ’em all,” grunted the big man.

“I’ll sell Harry for a doll with truly hair and a black silk and ear-rings and some choc’late ca’mels,” said she with the air of an old trader.

“What luck!” he laughed; and diving into another pocket, he brought forth a handful of candy and filled Molly’s apron pockets, then taking off his great cap he shook down a lovely doll, with truly hair indeed, long and curly, dressed in a black silk with train and pull-back just like mamma’s.

“And what’ll you sell Jonathan for?”

“Johnny, you mean—­you can have him for a kitten sir.”

In an instant the fur cap was off, and a little mewing kitten was produced, for her wondering and delighted gaze.

“And the baby—­he wouldn’t be worth much to me—­”

“Well, he is to me—­but I’ll sell him for a red cardinal sash and a little sister ’bout as big as Tilly White.”

“Whew!” he exclaimed, “you most take my breath away! but here’s the sash—­a beauty, too—­I don’t happen to have any little sisters with me,” feeling of the outside of his pockets, peering into his pack, and even taking off the great cap and shaking it as if a little girl might be folded up in that.  “No, really I haven’t a little sister about me, but don’t you cry; I’ll bring one round to-morrow—­and now I must be picking up these brothers—­where are they?”