It was
a nearly straight road.
* * * * *
About ten o'clock that morning a gentleman was driving along the
high-road when he suddenly pulled up his horse and threw the reins to
the groom. It had 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.
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