In some such position, with some such thoughts. I suppose, was our Molly when a strange cry reached her ears.
"Brothers for sale? Brothers for sale? Got any brothers for sale?"
"Dot a plenty," said Molly as the gate swung plump against the oddest great man.
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.