“Er—it is the new house-boy, dear, isn’t it?” he said.
“I think so,” said his wife doubtfully. “He only came this morning, you know, and Cook engaged him, and I hardly had time to look at him, but I think he is.... Yes, he’s wearing our overalls. What’s your name, boy?”
William was on the point of saying “William Brown,” then stopped himself. He mustn’t be William Brown. William Brown was presumably lost in the bowels of the earth. And he didn’t know the house-boy’s name. So he gaped again and said:
“I don’t know.”
There came a gleam into the doctor’s eye.
“What do you mean, my boy,” he said. “Do you mean that you’ve lost your memory?”
“Yes,” said William, relieved at the simplicity of the explanation, and the fact that it relieved him of all further responsibility. “Yes, I’ve lost my memory.”
“Do you mean you don’t remember anything?” said the doctor sharply.
“Yes,” said William happily, “I don’ remember anythin’.”
“Not where you live or anything?”