and the poor tired horse turned about unwillingly.
He did not want to go back, and would not believe his master was in
earnest till he felt a sharp tingle from the whip.

"Don't want to ride any more," said Flora, wearily; "want to get out."

"Getting scared, eh?"

"Flora is tired."

She was beginning to realize her situation, and felt in a hurry to see
home again.

"I shan't dump you here, miss," said the man, "so you may as well set
still a while longer. If you are lost, likely as not somebody will blame
me. I will carry you back a piece, and when you think you know the road
I will put you down. Lean your head against my arm if you are tired."

Flora would not do that for she suddenly discovered that the sleeve was
greasy, and she moved as far away from it as the narrow seat would
permit. But she did not dare let go for the cart jolted worse than ever.
The man drove slowly along, and she anxiously scanned the houses as they
passed. Once or twice he stopped, but Flora could not tell where she
was, and not till they got into the village did the surroundings look
familiar. Then she exclaimed--

"Goody! I know now."

"You are sure?"

"I am. Go that way," pointing in the right direction.

"Well, then, hop down; and when you beg a ride again, be sure you know
the driver before you get in. Do you hear?"

"I do. Good-by, Mr. Podge."

CHAPTER XII.

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
remem