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.
"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?"
"Johnny, you mean--you can have him for a kitten sir."
In an instant the fur cap was off, and a little mewing kitten was
produced, for her wondering and delighted gaze.
"And the baby--he wouldn't be worth much to me--"
"Well, he is to me--but I'll sell him for a red cardinal sash and a
little sister 'bout as big as Tilly White."
"Whew!" he exclaimed, "you most take my breath away! but here's the
sash--a beauty, too--I don't happen to have any little sisters with me,"
feeling of the outside of his pockets, peering into his pack, and even
taking off the great cap and shaking it as if a little girl _might_ be
folded up in that. "No, really I haven't a little sister about me, but
don't you cry; I'll bring one round to-morrow--and now I must be picking
up these brothers--where are they?"
"Baby Willie is in the back-yard in his carriage and Johnny and Harry
are playing _fooneral_ with him," said she, gravely.
"But that wasn't all; don't cheat me, little girl!" frowned the big
freckled-faced man.
"No! I wasn't going to--Tommy--he's in the yard round the corner there
with the big boys--he's 'leven--he's my greatest brother--he's a drefful
wicked boy--" Molly was going on with the bean-story very likely, but
at that moment the funeral procession of a baby carriage and two
followers filed up.
The great man darted forward, seized three-year-old Johnny and Harry in
his arms, stuffed one head-first, the other legs-first, into the
monstrous pack.
The one that went in head-first had his fat legs left dangling; the one
that went in legs-first, his head sticking out.
The baby went into one of his deep pockets where his screams were
stifled.
This was the work of a second and the man hurried out of sight, saying
cheerily over his shoulder to Molly, "I'll bring round the little sister
to-morrow."
Molly had so many things to take her attention that she had no time to
be conscience-smitten.
There was her odorous handkerchief; her sash, which she hung over her
arm; her pockets full of candy; under one arm the wonderful doll; under
the other, the live kitten.
But in a half hour the doll had ceased to charm; she couldn't tie the
sash herself; the "perfoomery" had evaporated; the kitten had scratched
her hand because Molly had picked her up by the tail; only a few
chocolate caramels were left, and, I suspect that all seemed as "vanity
of vanities" to poor Molly. Just then Fred, her favorite and only
remaining brother, came dancing down the path and stopped, amazed before
Molly's display of wealth.
[Illustration: SHE COULDN'T SPARE FREDDIE.]
Somehow the "choc'late ca'amels" tasted sweeter again when she shared
them with Fred, and she couldn't help saying, "Ain't they _boolicious_,
Freddie?"
She hadn't time to tell Freddie how she came possessed of all her
treasures, for there again appeared at the gate the same great man, with
his cry, "Brother for sale!"
"No, no!" screamed Molly, throwing her two fat arms round Fred, at the
same time crying, "Run away Freddie, quick! run away."
Now considering that Fred had the doll and the kitten in his lap, and
his sister's arms around his neck, it wasn't strange that the little
fellow didn't run.
"I'll give you ten dollars for this boy," said the great man, unwinding
Molly's arms, and picking fat Fred up, and thrusting him like a roll of
cotton batting under his arm.
Molly screamed and--and--well--she woke.
She hadn't been swinging on the gate at all; there wasn't any horrid,
_rusty_-faced man standing by her; she had been asleep in school and
dreaming.
But she couldn't believe it; and with all Miss Winche's kind coaxing,
she wouldn't lift her face from her desk, and would only sob, "I want my
Freddie! I want my Freddie!"
The funniest part of it was, the child hadn't been asleep five minutes.
She had been idly listening to a spelling class, and just after the
word "_sail_" dropped into a nap.
By the way, perhaps I should not omit to mention that before she went to
school that morning she had declared to her mother that boys were
_bothers_; no wonder! baby Willie, at breakfast, had punched his little
fist down into her mug, spilled the milk, and sent the mug crashing on
the floor. Johnny had taken the orange out of her sacque pocket, and she
had to let him have it because he was "a little fellow," and Harry and
Tommy had carried all the cookies to school in their pockets.
But now--after the dream, Molly hugged the baby; and she said
confidentially to mamma, "Isn't he sweet?--I don't think boys are a
bother, do you, mamma?"
And a little later, while rocking her old rag-doll, "mamma," said she,
"I won't ever swing on the front-gate again ever--ever--ever in my
life."