A minute later the old man entered the sick-room, whilst Tom Adams stopped at the door outside. There was a general cry as he entered of, “Oh, doctor!” And Mrs. Seddon called him: “Quick, quick, doctor! she’s dying!” “She’s dead,” said one of the ladies who stood by. The old doctor bent over the little still white form, and his countenance fell. She was not breathing. With one hand he picked up her little white arm and felt for the pulse; with the other he took a small case from his pocket. “Brandy,” he said. It was quickly handed him. He poured some into a little syringe, and stuck it into Nancy Pansy’s arm, by turns holding her wrist and feeling over her heart. Presently he said, quietly, “She’s living,” and both Mrs. Seddon and Nancy Pansy’s sister said, “Thank God!” All night long the old doctor worked over Nancy Pansy. Just before dawn he said to Mrs. Seddon: “What day is this?” “Christmas morning,” said Mrs. Seddon. “Well, madam, I hope God has answered your prayers, and given your babe back to you; I hope the crisis is passed. Have you hung up her stocking?” “No,” said Nancy Pansy’s mother. “She was so--” She could not say anything more. Presently she added: “She was all the time talking about you and Harry.” The old doctor rose and went out of the room. It was about dawn. He left the house, and went over to his own home. There, after some difficulty, he got in, and went to his office. His old secretary had been opened and papers taken out, but the old man did not seem to mind it. Pulling the secretary out from the wall, he touched a secret spring. It did not work at first, but after a while it moved, and he put his hand under it, and pulled out a secret drawer. In it were a number of small parcels carefully tied up with pieces of ribbon, which were now quite faded, and from one peeped a curl of soft brown hair, like that of a little girl. The old doctor laid his fingers softly on it, and his old face wore a gentle look. The largest bundle was wrapped in oil-silk. This he took out and carefully unwrapped. Inside was yet another wrapping of tissue paper. He put the bundle, with a sigh, into his overcoat pocket, and went slowly back to the Judge’s. Nancy Pansy was still sleeping quietly. The old doctor asked for a stocking, and it was brought him. He took the bundle from his pocket, and, unwrapping it, held it up. It was a beautiful doll, with yellow hair done up with little tucking combs such as ladies used to wear, and with a lovely little old tiny-flowered silk dress. “She is thirty years old, madam,” he said gently to Mrs. Seddon, as he slipped the doll into the stocking, and hung it on the bed-post. “I have kept her for thirty years, thinking I could never give it to any one; but last night I knew I loved Nancy Pansy enough to give it to her.” He leaned over and felt her pulse. “She is sleeping well,” he said.