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.