“Epilepsy, the doctor says,” he said firmly.
“Good heavens!” said Mrs. Morrison. “When did you find out? Will he be able to cure it? Is the poor girl in bed? How does it affect her? What a dreadful thing!”
William was flattered at the impression he seemed to have made. He wondered whether it were possible to increase it.
“The doctor thinks she’s got a bit of consumption too,” he said casually, “but he’s not quite sure.”
Mrs. Morrison screamed again. “Heavens! And she always looked so healthy. The girls will be so distressed. William, do tell me—when did your mother realise there was something wrong?”
William foresaw that the conversation was becoming complicated. He did not wish to display his ignorance of the symptoms of epilepsy and consumption.
“Jus’ soon after lunch,” he said with rising cheerfulness. “Now I’d better be goin’, I think. Good afternoon.”
He left Mrs. Morrison still gasping upon the sofa and in the act of ringing for her maid to fetch her smelling salts.
William walked down the road with a swagger. He was managing jolly well.... The next visit was easier. He simply told Mrs. Helm’s maid at the front door to tell Mrs. Helm that Ethel would be able to come to-night after all, thank you very much.
Then he swung off to the woods with Jumble, his faithful dog. In accordance with his new life of virtue he walked straight along the road without burrowing in the ditches or throwing stones at telegraph posts. His exhilaration slowly vanished. He wondered where Ginger and Henry and Douglas were and what they were doing. It was jolly dull all alone ... but still the happiness and gratitude and admiration of his family circle when they found out all he had done for them would repay him for everything. At least he hoped it would. His mother ... he had done nothing for his mother yet. He must try to do something for his mother....