d up and down the street.
Which way to go she could not tell, but started down street at full
speed. "O, I'm sure 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