"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