"But I don't see any of them now," said Vi, as she gazed around her. There were quite a number of persons on the street, for it was the noon hour, but the little girl knew none of them, and none of them seemed to pay any attention to her.
I think, though, almost any one of those who passed by poor little Vi, standing there in the street, if they had known she was lost, would have gone up to her and tried to help her.
But there were many children in the street, and several of them were standing still, looking not very different from Vi, except that she was crying—not a great deal, but enough to make her eyes wet.
"I guess I'd better walk along a little," said Vi to herself, after a bit. "Maybe I'll see Aunt Jo's house, or Russ or Rose or—or somebody that knows me."
Poor little Vi, just then, would have been glad to see even Alexis, the big dog. Alexis would lead her home, Vi felt sure. But the big dog was not in sight.
Vi walked a little way down the street, and then a little way up it. She looked at all the houses and at every one she met, still holding fast to the loaf of bread. But she did not see Aunt Jo's house, and she did not know any of the men or women or boys or girls that passed her.
"Oh, I'm worse lost than ever!" sighed the little girl. "I wonder what I can do. I'm going to ask some one!"
Now the best way for Vi to have done was to have gone up to one of the houses and asked where her Aunt Jo's home was. But the funny thing about it was that Vi wasn't quite sure what her aunt's name was. Her own name, she knew, was Violet Bunker, but she never spoke of Aunt Jo except just by that name, never using the last part and, while it was the same name as her own, Vi didn't know it. She felt she couldn't very well go up to a house and say:
"Where does my Aunt Jo live?"
The person in the house would be sure to ask: