been quite cool when Dorothy started, but now it was
very hot, and there seemed no air at all. A little girl in a white frock
was lying by the roadside.

He stooped over her and felt her pulse, and Dorothy opened large,
startled blue eyes.

"What is it, my dear?" he said.

"I am dying, I think," said Dorothy. "Tell mother I did _try_."

He lifted her into his trap and got in beside her, telling the groom to
drive on, and wondering very much. Dorothy gave a great sigh and began
to feel better.

"I think it is because I had no breakfast," she said. "Perhaps I am
dying of _hunger_."

The gentleman smiled, and searched his pockets. After a time he found
some milk chocolate. Dorothy would rather have had water, but he made
her eat a little. Then he took off her hat and gloves, and with a cool,
soft handkerchief pushed back the hair that was clinging about her damp
forehead and carefully wiped her face.

"You'll feel better now," he said, fanning her with her hat, and putting
it on again, as if he had never done anything but dress little girls in
his life.

Dorothy smiled with a great sigh of relief, and the gentleman smiled
too. "Now tell us all about it," he said in a friendly way. "Where do
you live, and where are you going?"

When Dorothy told him he looked very much surprised, and at the same
time interested, and before she knew what she was about, he had drawn
from her the whole story, and the more she told him the more surprised
and interested he became.

"What was the name of the friend who failed your father?" he said at
last, but Dorothy could not remember.

"Was it Pemberton?" he suggested.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Pemberton," said Dorothy. "At least, Dick said so."

"You don't happen to be _Addiscombe_ Graham's little daughter," he said
with a queer look, "do you?"

"Father's name is Richard Addiscombe," said Dorothy doubtfully.

"Well, the best thing you can do now is to come home with me and get
some breakfast," he said. "It is no use going to the Park, for I have
just been to the station, and Miss Addiscombe was there, with all her
luggage, going off to the Continent."

Poor Dorothy's heart sank like lead.

"Oh, dear!" she said, "then it's been no use. Poor father!" and her eyes
filled with tears.

The gentleman did not speak, and in a few minutes they drove in at the
gates of a beautiful country house, and he lifted her down and took her
in with him, calling out "Elizabeth!"

A tall girl, abou