“Rags! bones! old iron!” cried the Rag-Bone Man.
“Oh, pshaw,” said Merrimeg, “I’m not afraid.”
She went out into the street and watched him coming. He came on nearer and nearer. He reached the house next door and stopped there and stared at Merrimeg.
“Rags! bones! old iron!” he shouted out, at the top of his voice, and quick as a wink Merrimeg sprang back into the house and banged the door and bolted it and ran to her room and buried her head under the pillows. It was a long time before she came out again.
When she did come out, she didn’t go into the street, because the Rag-Bone Man was still there, probably. She went into the cabbage garden, where her mother was hanging up clothes.
“Where are you going, Merrimeg?” said her mother.
“Nowhere,” said Merrimeg.
“You’d better go over to Tish’s house now. They’re expecting you to have supper with them. And don’t get your dress soiled, and don’t stay too late.”
“Before you go, take these handkerchiefs and spread them out on the rose bushes in the sun to dry.”