“Gimme a handkerchief, quick,” said the Rag-Bone Man, and he snatched the handkerchiefs out of her hand and put one of them to his nose. “Oh!” he said, and threw the handkerchiefs down. “They’re wet! They won’t do! What good is a wet handkerchief? Haven’t you got a dry one?” “No, sir,” said Merrimeg, in a shaky little voice. “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?” [Illustration: “GIMME A HANDKERCHIEF QUICK,” SAID THE RAG-BONE MAN] “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. “Yes, sir?” said she. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, and smeared the dirt all over it most terribly. “It’s--it’s--about the children,” he said, crying out louder than before. “I can’t--I can’t--help it. It’s because they--they won’t come near me--they’re afraid of me--they won’t speak to me--they won’t let me tell ’em about Rags--they run away from me--oh, it’s too hard, it’s too hard!” He sniffled and gulped. Merrimeg felt very sorry for him indeed. “Please, sir,” said she, “do you want----” “I want a handkerchief. Look in that bag and see if you can find one. Oh, dear! If the children would only let me speak to ’em! Then I could tell ’em all about Rags! Why don’t you hurry? Can’t you see I need a handkerchief? Will you, or won’t you?” Merrimeg quickly opened the sack. She put her head down into it and looked in; and before she knew what was going on her heels were lifted up and she was plopped down head first into the bag, and there she was, tied up tight inside the rag-bone sack. She kicked and screamed, but it wasn’t any use. The Rag-Bone Man slung the sack on his back and made off through the orchard as fast as he could go. Merrimeg stopped kicking, when she found it wasn’t any use, and after a long time she came down on the ground with a bump, and she heard the Rag-Bone Man call out, “Open the door!” The sack was untied, and she stood up. She was standing before a little house in the woods, and the trees about it were dark and gloomy, and the sun had gone down. The door of the little house opened, and a little girl, smaller than Merrimeg, stood in the doorway. She was a very ragged little girl, and her face was dirty and sad. She looked at Merrimeg with big solemn eyes.