“Then it’s no use,” said the Rag-Bone Man. “I reckon I’ll have to stop crying. You can’t cry without a handkerchief. Why didn’t you bring me a dry one?”
“I didn’t know you wanted one,” said Merrimeg.
“Well, you didn’t think I could cry into a wet one, did you? You don’t expect me to do that, do you? Do you, or don’t you?”
“No, sir,” said Merrimeg.
“The next time you come around me when I’m crying, you bring me a dry one, d’you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Merrimeg.
“Don’t say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ all the time. Why don’t you ask me what I’m crying about?”
“Yes, sir,” said Merrimeg, twisting her apron. “I mean—if you please——”
“I’m crying about—I’m crying about—oh, dear! I’m going to cry again, I know I am! And I never have any handkerchief!”
He burst into tears again, and Merrimeg began to feel sorry for him.