was a lazy horse she was trying to make go
faster.

"Well," continued Martin, "I was pleased to go as you can fancy, and the
next afternoon off I set. It was such a nice day. The flowers were just
at their best--I stopped more than once to gather honeysuckle and twist
it round the handle of the basket, it looked so pretty, and when I got
to the little wood near which stood grandmother's cottage, I could
hardly get on for stopping to look at the flowers that peeped out at the
edge that skirted the road. And then I thought to myself how beautiful
it must be further in the wood, and what a lovely bunch of cowslips I
might gather. There was a little stile just where I was standing--I
climbed over it and put the basket down on the ground, as I could not
run with it in my hand, and then off I set, down a little path between
the trees, glancing at every side as I ran, for the flowers I wanted.
But I was disappointed--in the wood the flowers were not near so pretty
as at the edge, and after picking a few, I threw them away again and
turned back to the stile, where I had left my basket. But fancy my
trouble when I found it was not there! I had been away such a short
time, I could not believe it was really gone. I searched and I
searched--all in vain--it was really _gone_--so at last I sat down and
cried. I cried till I was tired of crying, and then I got up and walked
slowly on to grandmother's. She was so kind I knew she would not scold
me, but still she would be sorry and disappointed. And I really felt as
if I would be too ashamed ever to go home and tell mother. When I got to
grandmother's and walked up the little path to the cottage door--she had
a nice little garden with roses and stocks and gilly-flowers and
sweet-williams and lots of other nice old flowers--I was surprised to
see it closed. It was not often grandmother was out of an afternoon,
and besides, being my birthday, she might have known I would likely be
coming to see her.

"'Everything's gone wrong with me to-day,' I said to myself, and vexed
to think of the lost basket and the long hot walk back in the sun, I sat
down on the little bench at the door and began to cry again. It seemed
too bad that my birthday should be spoilt like that. I had cried so much
that my eyes were sore, and I leant my head against the back of the
bench--it stood in a sort of little arbour--and closed them. I was not
sleepy, I was only tired and stupid-like, but you can't fancy how
s