with her finger blotted out the "D," and made it into an oddly shaped
"S," so that it read simply:

"Dr. Holbrook--Sir: Will you be at leisure to examine me on Monday
afternoon, at three o'clock?

"MADELINE A. CLYDE.

"P. S.--For particular reasons I hope you can attend to me as early as
Monday. M. A. C."

Dr. Holbrook knew very little of girls, but he thought this note, with
its P. S., decidedly girlish. Still he made no comment, either verbal
or mental, so flurried was he with knowing that the evil he so much
dreaded had come upon him at last. Had it been left to his choice, he
would far rather have extracted every one of that maiden's teeth, than
to have set himself up before her like some horrid ogre, asking what
she knew. But the choice was not his, and, turning to the boy, he
said, laconically, "Tell her to come."

Most men would have sought for a glimpse of the face under the bonnet
tied with blue, but Dr. Holbrook did not care a picayune whether it
were ugly or fair, though it did strike him that the voice was
singularly sweet, which, after the boy had delivered his message, said
to the old man, "Now, grandpa, we'll go home. I know you must be
tired."

Slowly Sorrel trotted down the street, the blue ribbons fluttering in
the wind, while one little ungloved hand was seen carefully adjusting
about the old man's shoulders the ancient camlet cloak which had done