Tonight we have the joy of a welcome repeat of the recent BBC adaptation of Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders (World, 12.40am). Alex Kingston appears on the other side sometimes too, albeit at a more civilised hour, playing Limey medic Elizabeth Corday in ER (Pearl, Tuesday, 9.30pm). Corday is a rather humourless, over-ambitious surgeon who is too busy finding new ways of cutting people up to have much fun. She wears her wonderful hair scraped back, and talks coldly sometimes of life outside the operating theatre. Moll, in contrast, lets it all hang out. The more of Kingston's beautiful hair we see, the more flamboyant Moll becomes. She begins as a poor little foundling, her curls hidden under a crisp white cap. She has been raised in the home of a wealthy, dreary Puritan family, and soon attracts the attention of both the sons of the house. When that does not work out, she abandons her family to go to London, and then she really lets her hair down. The Little Rascals (Pearl, 8.30pm) is an ambitious attempt to recreate a classic that has been part of the American public's consciousness for three generations. The original characters, Spanky, Alfalfa, Darla, Stymie Buckwheat, Porky and of course Petey, first appeared in the Our Gang movie shorts of the 1920s. Created by Hal Roach, this gang of mischievous young people quickly became all-American icons. They reappeared on the small screen in the famous black and white television series of the 50s, and then finally in 1994, director Penelope Spheeris decided the Little Rascals needed to get big again. In this one, Alfalfa, played by the improbably named Bug Hall, the manliest of them all, the hero of the He-Man Womun Haters Club, is shot with Cupid's dart when he sees cute five-year-old Darla. His fellow club members are not impressed, and it takes the rest of the film for Alfalfa to show them that not all girls are horrid. Who Kidnapped Baby Lindbergh? (Discovery, 8pm) looks again at a 70-year-old tragedy that has never been satisfactorily laid to rest. Aviator Charles Lindbergh and his wife Anne had everything: he was an all-American hero who had flown non-stop from New York to Paris in 1927, and they married two years later. Their son, Charles Jnr, arrived a year after that. In 1932 the child was kidnapped, a ransom was paid, but the child was already dead. Two years later, a man called Bruno Hauptmann was tried and convicted for the kidnapping. He claimed he had not acted alone, but no one else was ever charged. Agatha Christie rewrote the ending of the story on Murder on the Orient Express, when the Lindberghs and all their loved ones gathered on a train to stab the mysterious other man. As tonight's programme shows, life was not like that, and the Lindberghs had five more children and could never bear to talk to them about the older brother who had died.