They were. ‘Good old Fatty!’ said Larry. ‘It’s a treat to be up here on a day like this, among all the farming folk and their creatures. What’s the time? I’m getting jolly hungry.’
‘It’s a quarter to one,’ said Fatty. ‘I vote we go and have some lunch now. Come on. It looks a nice little place like a dairy and cake shop mixed.’
It was a nice little place - shining and spotless, with a plump woman in a vast white apron to serve them and beam at them.
Yes, she could do two boiled eggs apiece and some plates of bread and butter, and some of her own bottled gooseberries if they liked, with a jug of cream. And she’d made some new buns, would they like some?
‘This is just the kind of meal I like,’ said Bets, as the eggs arrived, all brown and smooth and warm. ‘I like it much better than meat. Oh - is that strawberry jam, how lovely!’
‘I thought you might like some with the bread and butter, after you’ve had your eggs,’ said the plump woman, smiling at them all. ‘They’re my own growing, the strawberries.’
‘I think,’ said Daisy, battering with her spoon at her egg, ‘I think that there can’t be anything nicer than to keep your own hens and ducks, and grow your own fruit and vegetables, and do your own bottling, and pickling, and jamming. When I’m grown-up I’m not going to get a job in an office and write dreary letters, or things like that - I’m going to keep a little house and have my own birds and animals and make all kinds of delicious food like this!’
‘In that case,’ said Larry, ‘I shall come and live with you, Daisy - especially if you make jam like this!’
‘I’ll come too,’ said both Fatty and Pip at once.
‘Oh - wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all live together, and have lovely meals like this, and solve mysteries for the rest of our lives!’ said Bets fervently.