"But what is the matter with him?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, shuddering as another wild shriek was borne to her ears.
"He has fits," answered the doctor.
"Ought he to be here, then?"
"He has them only at intervals, say oncea month. To-morrow he will be all right again."
Mrs. Kenyon accepted this explanation without suspicion.
"How old is he?" she asked.
"Fifteen."
"About the age of Oliver," she remarked, turning to her husband.
"Or Roland."
"What a misfortune it must be to have a boy so afflicted! How I pity his poor mother!"