"Why, to cry, of course, when anybody gets hurt."
"What!" exclaimed Frances. "Do you mean to say that people are not allowed to cry for themselves?"
The Admiral shook his head. "Never," said he. "It couldn't be allowed on any account. It is the special privilege of the Court Crier to do all the crying. The office has been held by his family for ages. He is one of the Weeping Willows, you know, as I told you."
Down he plumped on the top step
The children were still wondering at this very funny arrangement, when they noticed that the Court Crier every now and then moved his handkerchief to one side and peeped with one eye at the little boy on Margaret's knee, as if to see how he was getting on.
Observing this, Margaret also peeped at him, when she noticed that the little boy, who at first had been screwing up his face into all sorts of shapes, was gradually growing more and more composed, until presently he burst out smiling again, and scrambling down from Margaret's knee, he turned round and handed to her the bunch of violets, just as though nothing had happened.
Instantly, the Court Crier jumped to his feet, wrung half a pint of tears out of his handkerchief, and rolling it up into a ball, he opened the lid of his caddy-box and flung the handkerchief into the other compartment.
"Pardon the interruption, Ladies," said he. "We will now proceed."