Buster fussed round, sniffing at everything that came out of the cupboards. He was upset and worried. His beloved master hadn’t fetched him from Larry’s the night before, and here was the morning and nobody had taken him back to Fatty yet. Not only that, but they apparently wouldn’t let him go by himself! He was so miserable that he limped even more badly than usual, though his leg was now quite healed.
At last the cupboards were finished and Pip and Bets were told they might go out in the snow. They put on hats and coats, whistled to Buster, and set off to Fatty’s.
They slipped in at his garden door and whistled the tune they always used as a signal to one another. There was no reply.
A maid popped her head out into the passage. “Oh!” she said, “I thought it was Master Frederick. He didn’t sleep here last night, the naughty boy. I suppose he stayed the night with you or Master Larry - but he ought to have told me. When is he coming back?”
This was a real shock to Pip and Bets. So Fatty hadn’t come back from Milton House? What had happened?
“Oh! - he’ll be back today I expect,” Pip said to the anxious maid. He dragged Bets out into the garden. She was crying.
“Don’t be so silly,” said Pip. “What’s the good of crying before you know what’s happened to Fatty?”
“I knew something had happened to him. I knew he was in danger, I did, I did,” wept poor Bets. “I want to go down to Milton House and see what’s happened.”
“Well, you won’t,” said Pip. “There may be danger. You look after Buster for me. I’ll go down myself.”
“I’ll come too,” said Bets bravely, wiping her eyes.