The doctor pondered. He rejoiced in this Palmer, though he might not perhaps have been able to give a very good reason for doing so. Still, the fact remained, that he rejoiced in him exceedingly. “I tell you what,” he said, “we’ll take on this job together. I’m not sure that I shall be free to-night, but if I can’t manage to-night I’ll arrange for to-morrow. I’ll let you know. What’s more, I’ll have your revolver for you:――though for heaven’s sake don’t use it,” he added hastily. “We’ll call on Mr. Bradley when he is out, and wait for him. For one thing, I’m extremely curious to watch your methods of work. I’ll promise not to interfere, and you must promise me on your side not to do anything without my knowledge.” “All right.” Doctor O’Neill still gazed earnestly at the boy seated like a Buddha on the ground before him. Then a smile passed across his face, to which Palmer instantly responded. “I don’t suppose we can do anything more at present,” he said, getting up. Palmer also rose, and peeped through the green drooping branches of the ash-tree. “Don’t go out that way,” he cautioned his companion. “The others are on the lawn, and they might see us and begin to ask questions. If we go out at the other side they’ll imagine we’ve just been for a bit of a stroll.” “You think of everything, Palmer,” the doctor murmured, as he profited by this advice. CHAPTER XX MISS JOHNSON’S BIRTHDAY ‘Accept at our hands, we pray you, These mean presents, to express Greater love than we profess. * * * * * Gifts these are, such as were wrought By their hands that them have brought, Home-bred things.’ ――_Campion._ Doctor O’Neill did not join the young people on the lawn, but merely waved a hand to them before getting into his car. Edward lay on his back on the grass, a tin of toffee by his elbow; Grif, now convalescent, Barbara, Ann, and Jim, were playing croquet. They gave up the game, however, when they caught sight of Palmer, and Edward pushed the tin of toffee towards his chum. They had all, in fact, been waiting for him, for this was Miss Johnson’s birthday, and preparations for its proper celebration had been in progress ever since breakfast. “We ought to build the bonfire before tea,” Jim cried. “So we will; there’s plenty of time,” returned Palmer, lazily. He dropped down on the grass beside Edward as he spoke, while the sound of the doctor’s car died in the distance. “But the fireworks have to be got ready, too.” “I thought you said they _were_ ready.” “The set-piece is, but the others will have to be pinned up.” “That won’t take a jiff.”