“Well,” it said rather uncertainly, “I’ve only been doing medicine a month, you know.”
“But, my dear, surely you can diagnose a little thing like this when you’ve been doing it a whole month,” said the voice.
“Oh yes,” said Freddie, “I—I daresay I can. It’s—it’s probably something quite simple.”
William, who was beginning to enjoy the situation, felt himself lifted up and placed in a car, taken up to the front door of the brown house, lifted out, carried in and laid upon a sofa.
“What is it, Freddie?” said a girl’s voice, “what’s the matter with him? Perhaps he’s been run over. He’s breathing. See—put your hand over his heart, you’ll feel its beating.”
But at this point, partly because he could contain his curiosity no longer and partly because his ticklishness could not endure the thought of a hand being placed again upon his chest, William opened his eyes and sat up. He saw three girls, one with red hair, one with black hair, one with fair hair and a very young man. The very young man looked relieved by William’s return to consciousness.
“Better, dear?” said the girl with red hair.
“Yes, thank you,” said William.
“What do you think it was, Freddie?” said the girl with dark hair.
“Oh—er—just a slight—er—vertigo,” said Freddie.