“Oh, please,” said Peggy, “mightn’t I just have the littlest ride with you? Won’t you take me along the road?”
“Oh yes, missie. ’Twon’t do us no harm,” said the man good-naturedly. He cracked his whip, and the caravan swayed as if it would fall over to one side, and then off they went, rumbling slowly along the sea-road. The woman gave Peggy a seat, and chatted away to her in the kindest way.
“This is fun,” said Peggy, and never gave a thought as to whether she had been wise in doing this. She told the woman all about herself, and how she had come to pay her aunt a visit, and how horrid Martin was, and how nice Janet was. But at last the cart drew up, and the man came to the door.
“You must be going home, missie,” he said; “I don’t want to take you too far.” Peggy pleaded just to be taken to the next corner; so he said he would do that, but she must get out there.
“There’s a good little lady. Run home straight; take the first turn on the right, and you’ll be home in ten minutes,” he said, lifting Peggy down.
“I’m very sorry. I would like to drive on and on with you,” said Peggy. And at that the man reached up to the roof of the caravan, and pulled down a sweet little green basket, and gave it to Peggy as a present. Then he cracked his whip again, and the caravan rumbled off down the road.
Peggy watched till it was out of sight. Then she began to admire her dear little green basket. “I must fill it with something,” she thought, and looked round to see what would be nicest to fill it with. There was a gate close by leading into a field, and Peggy saw such lovely large ox-eye daisies growing there that she at once wished to have them. The gate was rather stiff to open, but she managed it, and waded in among the high grass, and pulled and pulled at the daisies till her basket was overflowing. By this time she had walked right across the field, and instead of returning to the gate Peggy stupidly thought she would go through a gap in the hedge and come round. So through she went, and came into another road very like the one she had left. She trotted off down the road, arranging her daisies, and very happy. But after a little she found it was not the road she had come by, and she began to feel a little confused. She turned and ran back, but couldn’t see the gap in the hedge. Then Peggy was frightened. There was no one anywhere near, and she had no idea how to get home. She ran on, and then ran back, getting more and more frightened and confused, and at last she sat down on a heap of stones and began to cry.
Such a feeling of loneliness came over her! She thought that she must now be miles and miles away from home, and that she would never see it again. In reality Peggy was only about one mile from Seafield, and if she had been sensible, and thought how to cross the field with the daisies again, she would probably have found her way back quite easily. But it is difficult to be sensible when you are frightened; so instead of thinking, Peggy sat and cried helplessly by the roadside. It was a very lonely road. No one passed, and there was not a house in sight anywhere. She began to feel hungry too, and that made her cry worse, for she thought she would perhaps never get any food again, and would die of hunger.
Just then, as Peggy had come to this dismal conclusion, she saw two figures coming along the road. One was a woman in a shawl carrying a large basket, the other was a little girl. Peggy ran towards them crying,—
“Oh, I’ve lost my way; I can’t get home; will you tell me where to go?” She had been so frightened that she spoke without looking at the woman, and when she did look at her, she saw that her face was not at all a pleasant one. She looked very sly and nasty, and Peggy shrank back from her, and felt inclined to run away—only there was no one else who could help her.