[Illustration:  “From the kitchen came sounds of hammering.”]

“He’s a clever fellow,” said that gentleman, hopefully.  “You should hear him imitate a canary; life-like it is.”

Mr. Jenkins was about to make a hasty and obvious rejoinder, when the kitchen door opened and Selina emerged, followed by Drill.  The snarl which the constable had prepared died away in a murmur of astonishment as he took the helmet.  It looked as good as ever.

He turned it over and over in amaze, and looked in vain for any signs of the disastrous cracks.  It was stiff and upright.  He looked at the number:  it was his own.  His eyes round with astonishment he tried it on, and then his face relaxed.

“It don’t fit as well as it did,” he said.

“Well, upon my word, some people are never satisfied,” said the indignant Drill.  “There isn’t another man in England could have done it better.”

“I’m not grumbling,” said the constable, hastily; “it’s a wonderful piece o’ work.  Wonderful!  I can’t even see where it was broke.  How on earth did you do it?”

Drill shook his head.  “It’s a secret process,” he said, slowly.  “I might want to go into the hat trade some day, and I’m not going to give things away.”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Jenkins.  “Still—­well, it’s a marvel, that’s what it is; a fair marvel.  If you take my advice you’ll go in the hat trade to-morrow, my lad.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Mr. Gunnill, whose face as he spoke was a map of astonishment.  “Not a bit.  I’ve seen him do more surprising things than that.  Have a go at the staff now, Teddy.”

“I’ll see about it,” said Mr. Drill, modestly.  “I can’t do impossibilities.  You leave it here, Mr. Jenkins, and we’ll talk about it later on.”

Mr. Jenkins, still marvelling over his helmet, assented, and, after another reference to the possibilities in the hat trade to a man with a born gift for repairs, wrapped his property in a piece of newspaper and departed, whistling.

“Ted,” said Mr. Gunnill, impressively, as he sank into his chair with a sigh of relief.  “How you done it I don’t know.  It’s a surprise even to me.”

“He is very clever,” said Selina, with a kind smile

Mr. Drill turned pale, and then, somewhat emboldened by praise from such a quarter, dropped into a chair by her side and began to talk in low tones.  The grateful Mr. Gunnill, more relieved than he cared to confess, thoughtfully closed his eyes.

“I didn’t think all along that you’d let Herbert outdo you,” said Selina.

“I want to outdo him,” said Mr. Drill, in a voice of much meaning.

Miss Gunnill cast down her eyes and Mr. Drill had just plucked up sufficient courage to take her hand when footsteps stopped at the house, the handle of the door was turned, and, for the second time that evening, the inflamed visage of Mr. Jenkins confronted the company.