Some explanation seemed necessary. William was never one to stick at half measures.
“She’s been took ill since then,” he said.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Morrison with concern, “nothing serious, I hope?”
William considered. If it wasn’t serious she might expect Ethel to recover by the evening. She’d better have something serious.
“I’m ’fraid it is,” he said gloomily.
“Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Morrison. “Tch! tch! What is it?”
William thought over all the complaints he knew. None of them seemed quite serious enough. She might as well have something really serious while he was about it. Then he suddenly remembered hearing the gardener talking to the housemaid the day before. He’d been talking about his brother who’d got—what was it? Epi—epi——
“Epilepsy!” said William suddenly.
“What?” screamed Mrs. Morrison.
William, having committed himself to epilepsy meant to stick to it.