August crept on, and with September the deeper golden tones of autumn began to steal into the summer. Here and there a fallen leaf, here and there a sign of over-ripeness, betokened that approaching weariness which, once a year, drops slowly down upon nature, as sleep, once a day, upon the eyes of a tired child. And Grif, to the doctor’s keen vision, seemed a little weary too. He watched him closely; watched the bright eyes and sallow face, the slender form and listless movements; and a deep pity for this strange, quiet, little chap grew up within him. One morning Aunt Caroline spoke to him about Grif’s going to school, and the doctor stared in sheer amazement. He could hardly believe his ears. “But the thing’s absurd!” he said, trying to keep the irritation he felt out of his voice. “Can’t you see that it is?” And when Aunt Caroline did not see, he shrugged his shoulders impatiently. In the end he got angry. “It would be a positive cruelty to send him as he is now. I never saw a boy less fitted for a public school in my life. You’re simply condemning him to a life of misery.” “Misery?” “Yes,” snapped the doctor, “misery:――none the less real because he won’t be able to account for it satisfactorily, and I dare say won’t mention it at all. He’s _bound_ to be unhappy, and if he is unhappy he won’t live. You may think that a ridiculous exaggeration, but I’ll stake any medical reputation I may possess on its truth.” Aunt Caroline said she would write to her sister, though there was hardly time to get an answer now. Grif’s father, in particular, was very keen that at the beginning of the autumn term he should go to school with Edward. “It’s not as if he were to go alone,” Aunt Caroline added. “He will have his brother there to look after him, and Palmer.” “His brother can’t look after him,” replied the doctor bluntly. “Palmer might be able to do a little, but you must remember that at school it’s quite impossible for big boys and little boys to chum together. What’s more, they are utterly different in temperament, in everything. Even if they were of the same age, it would be impossible for Palmer to make a close friend of Grif.” Aunt Caroline was nettled. “You seem to have a wonderful opinion of Palmer――especially in contrast to my nephews!” “I _have_ a good opinion of him,” the doctor answered. “Do you think I am mistaken?” “I should be sorry to say that.” “I really believe――considering all things――that you ought to be.... But I should like to know just this. Will you ever ask Palmer to stay here again?” Aunt Caroline shook her head. “I didn’t ask him this time,” she mentioned quietly. “He came as a friend of Edward’s.” “And what have you against him?”