“Right,” said Pip. “We’ll be along. Golly, how can Fatty put up with friends like that?”
Clever Fatty
About half-past two that afternoon Pip and Bets set off to go to Larry’s. They had to go through the village, and to their horror they saw the French boy limping along the street.
“Look! there’s that awful boy again,” said Pip. “We’ll just grin at him and go on. Don’t let’s stop, for goodness’ sake, Bets. He might start jabbering at us again, or howling into his hanky.”
The boy went in at a gate. It was Mr. Goon - the policeman’s - gate. He had a note in his hand.
“Look! I bet Fatty has got his Frenchy friend to deliver that invisible letter!” said Pip. “Let’s just wait and see what happens. He’s knocked at the door, so old Clear-Orf may open it.”
The two waited near the gate, half-hidden by a bush. They saw the door open, and Mr. Goon’s red face appeared.
“I have zumsing for you,” said the boy in a foreign accent. “Mistaire Goon, is it not?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Goon, looking in surprise at the boy. He never remembered having seen him before. The boy presented him with a letter, bowed deeply and courteously, and waited.
“What are you waiting for?” said Mr. Goon.