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      ‘Are you sure?’ asked Purvis.

      ‘I have it on good authority,’ said Howard.

      ‘Gosh,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Nervous Exhaustion, eh?’

      ‘Bit of a shock, isn’t it?’ said Howard, flicking through his magazine.

      ‘Yes,’ chorused the mice.

      ‘I wouldn’t have thought it, would you?’ said Howard.

      ‘No,’ chorused the mice.

      Howard resumed his humming and the mice exchanged glances. Mickey Thompson r^aised an eyebrow at Purvis, and Purvis shrugged. Mickey Thompson prodded Purvis, and Purvis coughed.

      ‘Er, Howard?’ said Purvis.

      ‘Mmm?’ said Howard.

      ‘What’s Nervous Exhaustion

      ‘Hazard a wild guess,’ said Howard.

      ‘Feeling nervous?’ hazarded Purvis.

      ‘And?’ said Howard.

      ‘Exhausted,’ said Purvis.

      ‘Exactly,’ said Howard.

      Mickey Thompson selected a crisp and ate it, worriedly.

      ‘So what you’re saying,’ he said, ‘is he’s spooked and pooped.’

      ‘If you must,’ said Howard.

      ‘Poop

       poopedy

       pooped,’

      said Mickey Thompson, loudly, and Ortrud started trumpeting.

      ‘Enough,’ said Howard.

      ‘But it isn’t like him,’ said Purvis. ‘Mr Bullerton’s normally so… so…’

      ‘Bossy,’ said Mickey Thompson.

      ‘Yes,’ said Howard, ‘and…’

      ‘Shouty,’ said Purvis.

      ‘Yes,’ said Howard, ‘and…’

      ‘S t o m p y,’said Mickey Thompson.

      ‘Yes,’ said Howard, ‘and…’

      ‘Angry,’ said Purvis.

      Howard thumped the magazine down on the desk.

      ‘And,’ he said.

      ‘And what, Howard?’ asked Purvis.

      ‘And now I can’t remember what I wanted to say,’ said Howard.

      ‘He’s getting forgetful,’ muttered Mickey Thompson, to Purvis.

      ‘What?’ said Howard.

      ‘It’s a symptom,’ said Mickey Thompson.

      ‘What is?’ said Howard.

      ‘Forgetfulness,’ said Mickey Thompson, cheerfully. ‘You’re growing elderly.’

      ‘WHAT!’ shouted Howard.

      ‘We were discussing Mr Bullerton,’ explained Purvis.

      ‘I know we were,’ said Howard. ‘I am well aware of that, thank you very much, and I am NOT forgetful.’

      ‘Of course not, Howard,’ said Purvis.

      ‘I’m a young man in the prime of life,’ said Howard.

      ‘Yes, Howard,’ said Purvis, rummaging for tea bags. ‘But what do you think caused it? The Nervous Exhaustion, I mean.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Howard, ‘but I expect I shall get the blame, as usual.’

      ‘Maybe we should make him a get well card,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

      ‘Maybe we shouldn’t,’ said Howard. ‘I’ve been given strict instructions to leave him alone, in peace and quiet.’

      Purvis handed Howard a cup of tea, and Howard brightened.

      ‘And I’ll tell you what,’ he continued. ‘While Mr Bullerton’s away, I intend to enjoy some peace and quiet of my own.’

      ‘TRUMPET!’

      trumpeted Ortrud, crashing into a rubber plant.

      ‘Tut,’ said Howard, as the rubber plant narrowly missed him. ‘What’s wrong with Ortrud? Why’s she hurtling?’

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