"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?"