The girl laughed and thought. ‘Well, no, I don’t!’ she said. ‘I’ve never had to go there and so I’ve never noticed. But if you want it, any one would tell you. There can’t be much of a post-office at Sheepsale, though. It’s only a small place. Just a market really.’
Pip felt pleased. If this girl didn’t know where the post-office was, she could never have posted a letter there. Good. That ruled her out. Pip felt very clever. Anyway, he was certain that such a nice girl wouldn’t write horrid letters.
He looked round at the others, feeling that his task was done. He felt sorry for Daisy, sitting next to the surly Mr. Goon. He wondered how Fatty was getting on.
He wasn’t getting on at all well! Poor Fatty - he had chosen a very difficult passenger to talk to.
A PUZZLING THING
The sour-faced man appeared to be very deep indeed in his paper, which seemed to Fatty to be all about horses and dogs.
Buster sniffed at the man’s ankles and didn’t seem to like the smell of them at all. He gave a disgusted snort and strained away towards where Mr. Goon sat, a few seats in front.
‘Er - I hope my dog doesn’t worry you, sir,’ said Fatty.
The man took no notice. ‘Must be deaf,’ thought Fatty and raised his voice considerably. ‘I hope my DOG doesn’t WORRY you, sir,’ he said. The man looked up and scowled.
‘Don’t shout at me. I’m not deaf,’ he said. Fatty didn’t like to ask again if Buster worried him. He cast about for something interesting to say.