‘Yes. There are the letters over there,’ said Mrs. Hilton.
‘What about my parcel for Gladys?’ said Bets.
‘Oh, that doesn’t need to go - nor the letter for her,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘Somebody’s going to see her today and he will take them. That will save putting a stamp on the parcel.’
‘Who’s going to see Gladys?’ asked Pip. ‘Can we go too? I’d like to see Gladys again.’
‘Well, you can’t,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘And please don’t start trying to find out things, Pip, because, as I’ve already told you, this is nothing whatever to do with you. You can take the other letters to the post for me. Go now and you will catch the ten o’clock post.’
Pip and Bets went off rather sulkily. Bets was near tears. ‘It’s too bad, Pip,’ she said, when they got out-of-doors, ‘we had such good ideas - and now they’re no use at all!’
‘We’ll post the letters and then go up and see Fatty,’ said Pip gloomily. ‘I expect he’ll think we ought to have done better. He always thinks he can do things so marvellously.’
‘Well, so he can,’ said Bets loyally. ‘Let me post the letters, Pip. Here’s the post office.’
‘Here you are then. What a baby you are to like posting letters still!’ said Pip. Bets slipped them into the letter-box and they turned to go up to Fatty’s house. He was at home, reading a new detective book.
‘Our ideas weren’t any good,’ said Pip. He told Fatty what had happened. Fatty was unexpectedly sympathetic.