I ought to be going up street," gasped she; "and if I was, I shouldn't think that was right either. Wish I knew which way I should expect Dotty to go, and then I'd know she'd gone just the other way."

After flitting hither and thither for some time, Susy ran home to give the alarm. Without stopping to remove the jelly from the stove, Mrs. Parlin, Norah, and Prudy ran out of doors, and taking different directions, started in search of the missing child.

On High Street Prudy met a soap-man, just reentering his wagon at some one's door.

"O, have you seen my little sister?" cried Prudy, pressing her hand against her heart.

"Your little sister? And who may that be?" said the soap-man, in a deep whisper; for he had such a severe cold on his lungs that for six months he had not spoken a loud word.

"O, her name is Alice Wheelbarrow Parlin, sir," whispered Prudy, in reply; "and she had on a pink dress, and her hair curls down her neck, and she has the brightest eyes, and two years and a half of age, sir. O, where do you s'pose she's gone to?"

In her concern for Dotty, Prudy had forgotten her usual fear of strangers.

"I'm sorry you've lost your sister," whispered the soap-man; "but as you seem to be pretty well tired out, suppose you jump into my cart and ride with me."

Prudy wondered why the man still kept whispering, but presumed there was some reason why the loss of Dotty aught to be kept secret. She looked at the long lumber-wagon, partly filled with barrels, and was on the point of replying, "No, thank you, sir," when a bright idea occurred to her.

"Do you s'pose, sir, I can get to my sister any quicker if I ride?"

"Well, can't say as to that, my dear," whispered the soap-man, shoving a barrel to one side, "seeing as I don't know where your sister's to be found; but there's one thing certain—you'll get over the ground a good deal quicker riding than you would on your feet. I'm going to Pearl Street before I stop."

"Then I'll ride, sir, if you'll please lift me in," whispered poor Prudy, trembling with fear of the uncouth wagon and strange man, yet resolved to risk anything for Dotty's sake.

There was no seat in the wagon, and Prudy was obliged to stand up.

"Hold on to me, sissy," said the kind-hearted soap-boiler. "I reckon you ain't used to riding in this kind of shape. Why, lawful sakes, your face is as white as a pond-lily!"

"It's my heart," whispered Prudy, faintly; "it whisks just like the eggs Norah beats in a bowl. But it's no matter, sir; I don't think I'm afraid,—or only a little speck," added she, in a lower whisper; for, though anxious to be polite, she did not mean to tell anything but the "white truth."

The little girl's gentle ways won the soap-boiler's heart at once. "What's your fathers name, little dear?" inquired he, as they went clattering through the streets.

"His name is Mr. Edward Parlin.—But O, I don't see a single thing of Dotty!"

"Dotty! Why, who is Dotty?" asked the man, turning about, and gazing at his little passenger with a look of curiosity.

"Why, Mr.—, why, sir, don't you know?" replied the child, struck with a sudden fear that her strange companion was a crazy man. "O, my stars! don't you know what you took me up for? Didn't you hear? My little sister ran off the piazza." Then Prudy repeated the words aloud, slowly and on a high key, anxious this time to make her meaning very clear. "She—ran—off—the—piazza, with a pink dress on, sir, and not a speck—of—a—hat. And I was stirring jelly on the stove, and never knew it till she was lost and gone. And we're all hunting,—me, and—mother, and—all. I thought you knew, sir; but if you didn't I guess I'd better get out!"

The good-natured soap-man shook with laughter. "Excuse me, little miss," said he, "but the fact is, I understood you to say your sister's name was Alice Wheelbarrow Parlin, and that's why I was puzzled to know who you meant by Dotty.—But here we are at Pearl Street. Here, in this house, lives one of my best customers. Now, if you like, I'll lift you out, and you can go with me and inquire for your little sister. Then you can ride again, for I'm going as far as Munjoy."

So saying, the man took Prudy out in his arms. She knew it was rather odd for a little girl like her to be going around to people's back doors with a stranger in a blue blouse; but it was all for Dotty's sake.

The man knocked with the handle of his whip, and a neat-looking servant girl appeared.

"Have you seen anything of a stray child?" was his first question.

"My little sister," cried Prudy, in breathless haste. "She had on a pink dress, and curls bareheaded."

"We have seen no such child pass this way," replied the girl, civilly. Prudy's eager face fell.

"I supposed likely as not you hadn't," said the soap-man; "so now we'll proceed to business. You see I'm here with my wagon and barrels, and I suppose you perceive that I've come for your bones!"

These whispered words fell on Prudy's ears with terrible force. A vague terror seized her. "I've come for your bones!" What could he mean? Was he an ogre, right out of a fairy-book? What did he want of that poor woman's bones?

Without stopping to think twice, Prudy ran off with trembling haste, and by the time the astonished soap-boiler missed her she had reached Congress Street, and was still running.

The first thing she saw, as she entered her own door, was the fluttering of Dotty's pink dress. The runaway was safe and sound. She had only toddled off after a man with a basket of images, calling out, "baa, baa," "moo, moo," "bow-wow." The end of it was, that the image man had given her a toy lamb, for which she had said, "How do," instead of thank you; and Florence Eastman had led her home.

Susy was heartily ashamed of her heedlessness.

"Now, mother," said she, "do you think, if I should be kept on bread and water for a whole day, I should learn to remember? You'll never trust Dotty with me again."

"Ah," said Mrs. Parlin, with a meaning smile; "the trouble is, Susy, you've made up your mind that your memory is good for nothing: you expect to forget! I shall trust you again, and you must fully resolve to do better."

Dotty was very proud of her "baa, baa," and insisted upon putting it in her bathing tub every morning, and scrubbing it with her own hands.

Everybody laughed at Prudy's wild story of the soap-boiler.

"We were tired, my feet and I," said she, between laughing and crying; "but I never'd have rode with that whispering man if I'd known he was a bone man!"

CHAPTER III.

DOTTY'S VERSES.

By the time Alice Parlin was three years old she could prattle like a bobolink, and thought herself quite as old and wise as either of her sisters. Every Sunday morning it made her very wretched to see Susy and Prudy set out, with bright faces, for Sabbath school!

"Mayn't me go, too?" said she, plaintively. "Me's got the coop; must go to Sabber school!"

"O," replied Prudy, snatching a kiss from her pouting lips, "if you've got the croup you certainly can't go."

Dotty shook her curls. "Coop's went off now. Dotty'll go, all o' you."

"O, no, little sister; you'll stay at home and look at your pictures. That's the way I did when I was little."

"You mustn't contraspute," cried Dotty, shaking her elbows. "I is goin' to Sabber school." Then suddenly showing her dimples, she added with a bright smile, "'Cause I's your comfort, you know, Prudy, your darlin', precious little comfort; isn't I, Prudy?"

"Dear me," thought tender Prudy, "the poor little thing always