AND LOSES HER WAY.
Flora jumped down and ran away without thanking the soap man for the
ride, or for his kindness in bringing her so far on her journey home.
She was glad to get away from the cart and the limping horse, and the
poor old horse was glad too. You ought to have seen him when his head
was turned the other way again. He trotted along so briskly with the
little blue cart, that anybody could have told he was running away from
Flora. Perhaps his supper was waiting for him, as Flora's was for her,
and he was in a hurry to eat it. They went so fast in opposite
directions that in a few minutes they were out of sight of each other.
Flora was now glad to walk. She had been so long cramped upon the narrow
seat, that it was a pleasure to stretch her limbs and skip about; or
would have been, only she was so hungry. It is dreadful to be hungry
when there is nothing good to eat in your pocket. There was nothing good
to eat in Flora's pocket. She turned it wrong side out, hoping to find a
few crumbs in the corners, but there was not one; and then she
remembered that it was her blue dress which had been worn but a few
days; not long enough to gather woolly crumbs.
"Too bad!" she murmured, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was
now more hungry than before. And at that moment a bowl of nice bread and
milk was on the table waiting for her; but between her and it was a
long, weary walk. It would not have seemed far to Charley or Bertie,
and it really was only a mile, but a mile is a long journey for little
tired feet, and Flora was hungry too. She could not see very well as she
put the things back into her pocket, the tears blinded her. Perhaps that
was the reason she left something out. And what do you suppose it was?
She walked away and left her precious "'fumery" lying on the ground. Of
course she did not know it, and she felt dreadfully about it afterwards,
but she never could tell where she lost it.
While she was putting the things back, she felt some spatters on her
head. She looked up, and there was such a black cloud overhead. It was
true, then, what the driver of the blue cart had said. The rain was
coming, and it seemed to be growing dark, too. What if the rain and
darkness should both overtake her before she got home? She must make
haste now. She hurried on as fast as her little feet would carry her.
She was running away from the rain and the night. She did not think of
applying at any of the houses for shelter, or of asking for food; she
had but one wish, to get home to dear mamma. By-and-by the tired feet
began to flag, but she felt no more spatters, and she was glad that she
had left the shower behind. It was lighter, too; she could run faster
than the night. As there was to be no rain, she concluded to rest if she
came to a nice place, and soon she came to a very nice place just off
the road, which looked so inviting that she sat down and leaned her head
against the smooth, grassy mound. It was sheltered by fine old trees,
and the new grass and the fresh earth smelt sweet, as she laid her wet
cheek against the cool pillow, that she could not make up her mind to
leave it. She said to herself that she would rest one little minute, but
when the little minute was gone, she had forgotten the night was
following so fast upon her footsteps. She lay drowsily watching the
shining bugs and creeping things that shared her green pillow, and
thought how happy she should feel if it were not for being so very
hungry. And then she was no longer hungry, for sleep stole upon her
unawares, and no one in passing noticed the curly-haired child lying on
the damp ground, with tears upon her cheek, and the night that was
creeping on so surely, overtook her and passed by, dropping his mantle
of darkness upon her as she lay asleep. And the shower came next, and
tried to wake her by sprinkling her with gentle drops. It said quite
plainly, "The night has come, and the rain. Hurry, little one!" But
Flora did not wake till the north wind shook her roughly, asking, in
gruff tones, "What are you doing here?" Then she sat up, rubbed her
eyes, and tried to collect her scattered ideas. Why was the wind
shaking her so roughly? And what made her pillow cold and wet? She
thought she was at home in her own bed, and she called aloud, "mamma!"
But there was no mamma to answer. Then she felt the raindrops upon her
face, and heard them pattering on the leaves of the big trees, and the
wind whistled among the branches, and shook them as it had shaken her,
making them cry out with pain, and she remembered all at once that she
had laid down for one little minute to rest, but what made it so dark
and cold she did not know.
She was certain that she had left the night far behind; yet here it was,
and the rain. Her pretty blue dress was wet through, and the dampness
had taken the life out of her garden hat, so that its broad rim flapped
about her face in a very uncomfortable way. Little rivulets trickled
down from it upon her neck and shoulders, and her wet curls clung
closely; but they could not keep her warm. She got up and tried to find
the road. She had wandered from it in search of a resting place, and now
it was lost. She could not find it anywhere. She was afraid to venture
far from the grassy mound, yet the road was but a short distance away. A
few steps more, and she would have seen friendly lights glancing from
two or three houses; but the darkness confused her, and sleep had
benumbed her senses. Oh, if some one would come and carry her to mamma!
It was so dreadful to be alone in the night. It was worse than hunger
and cold. If she only had Dinah! Dinah would be sorry. Poor Dinah! She
was in as bad a plight as her mistress. No one had taken her from the
door-step where she was lying in a heap, soaked through and through by
the rain. All her faculties were gone now, all her members disordered.
There was nothing about her worth preserving but the one glass eye.
Flora happily was spared this knowledge, and the very thought of the
black baby was a comfort. Suddenly, something cold touched her hand and
startled her. It was the nose of a large dog. She was not at all
frightened when the great creature looked up at her and inquired what
the trouble was. She was overjoyed at finding something to speak to. She
clasped her arms around his neck and kissed him twice on the forehead,
and he was much pleased with the reception. He kissed her many times,
and wagged his tail with vigor. He was telling her that he was very
sorry to find such a nice little girl out so late; but that he knew she
_was_ a nice little girl, and he should like the pleasure of seeing her
home. And Flora understood him perfectly. She was no longer alone. She
held the dog's shaggy head close to the bosom of her wet dress and told
him she was lost, and that he was a splendid old fellow to poke his
nose into her hand, and that if he would show her the way to mamma's
house he should have as many bones as he could eat. And the bones made
her think of her own bowl of bread and milk, waiting on the table at
home. Was it waiting there now, or had somebody carried it away,
thinking she would never need it? She sighed, and patted her friend's
cold nose, and whispered that she was very hungry. He understood all
about that, too. Many a time he had gone to bed without any supper; but
he said nothing to Flora of his own sufferings. He licked her hand in
silent sympathy.