lora began to grow tired of staying so much alone, but she was not ready to give up the "'fumery," so she had to continue an exile. Dinah was no longer good company, for she had lost many of her faculties, and one eye. She glanced at Flora, with the one that was left, in a very singular manner. Perhaps she wanted to explain to her mistress that somebody had taken a fancy to the blue button, but you must remember she could not talk. She could only stare in a very startling way. Flora did not like it at all, and at Amy's suggestion tied a bandage round her head, which completely hid the defect, and softened the expression of the blue button remaining. She was supposed to be sweetly sleeping in the library this pleasant afternoon. She was really lying in a heap on the kitchen door step, and Flora, for lack of something better to do was hanging lazily on the big gate, gazing down the road. She was in that critical condition when mischief "takes."
She had climbed the gate and was hanging there, ready to be swayed by the first wind that blew, whether fair or foul. It happened to be a foul wind, and it came in the form of a queer little cart drawn by a limping horse moving slowly up the road. The body of the cart was a square box, and it was painted blue. The wheels were red. The old horse had been gray in his palmy days; he was now a dingy white. Flora liked him because he looked sober, and because he jumped so high when he walked; and when the cart got near enough for her to see its bright colors, she concluded to take a ride. So she got down, drew the bolt and opened the big gate (thereby breaking one of mamma's rules), and then she went out and waited at the side of the road for her carriage. The limping horse jumped so high at every step that he did not get over the ground very fast, and Flora had some time to wait. Long enough to realize that she was about to do a very wrong thing, and grieve mamma. But she did not once think of that; her head was turned by the little blue cart, and the old white horse. When the driver came within speaking distance, she nodded as a signal for him to stop, and he, thinking the child had business with him said "Whoa!" and the horse stopped.
"Anything in my line to-day, little girl?"
"Yes," said Flora. "I should like—"
"Any soap grease, old boots—iron, bottles, rags, newspapers? Carry the best of soap, and pay cash on the nail. Eight cents for white, three for colored."
"To take a ride," said Flora, somewhat bewildered, but finishing her sentence.
"Hey?"
"If you please, I should like to take a ride."
"Not with me?"
"I should."