Mr. Tupping put out his hand and jerked the frightened little girl to her feet "You show me where you put them," he said.
"Let me go," said Bets, finding her tongue at last. "I'll tell Mummy about you!"
"You tell her if you like," said Mr. Tupping. "And I'll tell Mr. Goon the policeman, see? I'll tell him you took my strawberry runners, and he'll put you and Luke into prison!"
"They don't put little girls into prison," sobbed Bets. But her heart went cold at the thought of Luke going to prison.
"Where's them strawberry runners?" demanded Mr. Tupping. Bets led him to her garden. As soon as Mr. Tupping saw the neatly-planted, well-watered little strawberry plants he bent down and wrenched every one of them up. He tore them up into tiny pieces and threw them on to the bonfire that was smouldering nearby. Bets sobbed bitterly. Poor little strawberry plants!
"You're a bad girl," said Mr. Tupping. "And I tell you this — if you come into my garden again, I'll go straight to Mr. Goon the policeman. Great friend of mine, he is, and he'll be along to see your father before you can say 'Jack Robinson.' As for that Luke — well, he'll end up in prison, no doubt about that."
With that Mr. Tupping began to walk back to the wall; but before he could get there, Buster came running up. He heard Bets sobbing, he smelt Mr. Tupping, and he put two and two together at once. Buster certainly had brains!
He flew straight at Tupping and caught him by the trouser-leg, growling in a most fearsome way. Mr. Tupping gave a howl.
"Call your dog off!" he yelled. Bets called Buster.
"Oh, Buster, don't! Come here, Buster!"