‘We put it back,’ he said. ‘We pulled it this way and that, we patted it down, we draped it just right, we...’
‘Oh, shut up!’ said Larry. ‘I don’t like Mrs. Moon. She may be a good cook - and must say she makes marvellous cakes - but she’s a tell-tale.’
‘I bet poor old Gladys is scared of her,’ said Daisy. Gladys was the housemaid, a timid, quiet little thing, ready with shy smiles, and very willing to do anything for the children.
‘I like Mrs. Cockles the best,’ said Bets. ‘She’s got a lovely name, I think. She’s the char-woman. She comes to help Mrs. Moon and Gladys twice a week. She tells me all kinds of things.’
‘Good old Cockles!’ said Pip. ‘She always hands us out some of Mrs. Moon’s jam-tarts on baking day, if we slip down to the kitchen.’
Larry yawned and looked out of the window. ‘This disgusting weather! ’ he said. ‘Raining again! It’s jolly boring. I wish to goodness we’d got something to do - a mystery to solve, for instance.’
‘There doesn’t seem to be a single thing,’ said Daisy. ‘No robberies - not even a bicycle stolen, in the village. Nothing.’
‘I bet old Clear-Orf will be pleased if we don’t get a mystery this time,’ said Fatty.
‘Has he seen you yet?’ asked Bets. Fatty shook his head.
‘No. I expect he still thinks I’m away at Tippylooloo,’ he said, with a grin. ‘He’ll be surprised when I turn up.’