‘Well, I do, unless there are strangers, and we don’t get many of those,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘Mrs. Jolly always goes, of course - such a nice person. And that artist-girl goes too - I don’t know her name - but she’s always so sweet and polite.’
‘Yes, we liked her too,’ said Fatty. ‘Did you see the man I sat by, Miss Trimble? Such a surly fellow.’
‘Yes. I’ve never seen him before,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘The vicar often gets on the bus at Buckle, and I usually have such a nice talk with him. Mr. Goon sometimes goes up on that bus too, to have a word with the policeman in charge of Sheepsale. But I’m always glad when he’s not there, somehow.’
‘I suppose one or two of the regular Monday bus-people weren’t there yesterday, were they?’ said Fatty innocently. ‘I thought the bus would be much more crowded than it was.’
‘Well, let me see now - yes, there are usually more people,’ said Miss Trimble, her glasses falling off again. The children held their breath. Now they would perhaps hear the name of the wicked letter-writer!
‘Anyone we know?’ asked Fatty.
‘Well, I don’t know if you know Miss Tittle, do you?’ said Miss Trimble. ‘She always goes up on a Monday, but she didn’t yesterday. She’s a dressmaker, you know, and goes up to Sheepsale House to sew all day Mondays.’
‘Really?’ said Fatty. ‘Is she a special friend of yours, Miss Trimble?’
‘Well, no,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘I can’t say she is. She’s like a lot of dressmakers, you know - full of gossip and scandal - a bit spiteful, and I don’t like that. It’s not Christian, I say. She pulls people to pieces too much for my liking. Knows a bit too much about everybody!’
The children immediately felt absolutely certain that Miss Tittle was the writer of those spiteful letters. She sounded exactly like them!