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"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."
"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 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.
Lady Fortrose, the wife of the soap-man, pays two hundred and fifty pounds for flowers for her house every Thursday in the season; and mine looked quite as good as hers. I think Mellish is much cheaper than anybody else. And, just because I went to a cheap man, Henry was horrible.
"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.
Then the soap-man tore off a small piece from the red lining of his old jacket, and cutting it so as to make it look like a cock's comb, he stuck it to the bird's head. "Now you will see the gold-jacket fly," said the old man, letting the sparrow go, which flew away in deadly fear, with the sun shining upon her. How she glittered!
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.
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