Grif lay and listened to her as she moved quietly about the room, preparing some food for him. He felt very weak, and yet, somehow, happy, and he allowed Aunt Caroline to feed him just as if he were a baby. “Will you read to me a little?” he asked. “What shall I read?” “An animal story.” “But I’m afraid I haven’t got one here.” “Well, it doesn’t matter. Pouncer!” “Oh, you don’t want Pouncer, dear; he’s too heavy, he will only tire you.” “I just want him for a minute.” Pouncer sprang on to the bed and began to snuff and snuggle his nose into Grif’s neck. The little boy laughed and kissed a silky ear; but Aunt Caroline would only let Pouncer stay for the prescribed minute; then she put him down again. “Do you really want me to read to you, Grif?” “No, it doesn’t matter. I think I can go to sleep.” He lay drowsily watching Aunt Caroline, while the firelight was reflected in his dark eyes. Then the lids drooped lower and lower, and Aunt Caroline, listening to his soft regular breathing, knew that he was going to get better. CHAPTER XIX DOCTOR O’NEILL CALLS IN A SPECIALIST ‘Some that do plot great treasons.’ ――_Webster._ Doctor O’Neill, by what he considered great good luck, found young Dorset alone on the croquet-ground. He at once seized his opportunity. “Put away your mallet,” he said abruptly, “I want to talk to you. Shall we be disturbed if we stay here?” “Very likely.” The doctor had expected him to betray some surprise, but judging from his manner Palmer might have been granting mysterious interviews all his life. His unruffled serenity, indeed, slightly took the wind out of the doctor’s sails. “Well, where will we not be disturbed? I want to speak to you in private.” “There’s Jonah’s Bower,” the boy remarked, pointing to the ash-tree. “Nobody will interrupt us there, unless Ann routs us out, and if she does we can send her away.” “All right.” They retired to the bower, and the doctor found it contained a seat which had been put up for Ann by Palmer himself, who included carpentry among his many accomplishments. He took the seat, and the red-haired boy, facing him, sat upon the ground cross-legged, like a Turk. “I want to talk to you about Grif.” “Yes.” Doctor O’Neill looked gravely into Palmer’s pleasant countenance, while he tried to think of a way to induce him to commit himself. “Or rather I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me everything you know.” Palmer’s expression did not alter. “So far, I only know that there is some particular thing you are uneasy about.” “Don’t be cheeky.” “No, sir.” The doctor frowned. “Well then, fire ahead, and tell me what you think.” Palmer only gazed at him with wrinkled forehead, as if slightly at a loss. “I don’t see how I’m to fire ahead, when you won’t even tell me what you would like me to fire at.”