had a little packet of fruit and cakes with him, and a wonderful doll,
dressed most royally.

"Madaline!" he cried, as he entered the cottage, and she came running to
him, "should you like a drive with me to-morrow?" he asked. "I am going
to Corfell, and I will promise to take you if you will be a good girl."

She promised--for a drive with the doctor was her greatest earthly
delight.

"Bring her to my house about three to-morrow afternoon, Mrs. Dornham,"
said Dr. Letsom, "and she shall have her drive."

Margaret promised. When the time came she took the little one, dressed
in her pretty white frock; and as they sat in the drawing-room, the
doctor was brought home to his house--dead.

It was such a simple yet terrible accident that had killed him. A poor
man had been injured by a kick from a horse. For want of better
accommodation, he had been carried up into a loft over a stable, where
the doctor attended him. In the loft was an open trap-door, through
which trusses of hay and straw were raised and lowered. No one warned
Dr. Letsom about it. The aperture was covered with straw, and he,
walking quickly across, fell through. There was but one comfort--he did
not suffer long. His death was instantaneous; and on the bright June
afternoon when he was to have taken little Madaline for a drive, he was
carried home, through the sunlit streets, dead.

Margaret Dornham and the little child sat waiting for him when the sad
procession stopped at the door.