‘Aren’t the daffodils simply lovely?’ said Miss Trimble, as they came to the orchard.
‘Glorious!’ said Daisy. ‘Let’s sit down and enjoy them.’
They all sat down. Miss Trimble looked anxiously at the children and went rather red. ‘I don’t think I should have said that about Miss Tittle,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t thinking. She sometimes comes here to sew for Lady Candling, you know, and I do find it very difficult not to be drawn into gossip with her - she asks me such questions! She’s coming here this week, I believe, to make up the new summer curtains - and I’m not looking forward to it. I can’t bear all this nasty spitefulness.’
‘No, I should think not,’ said Bets, taking her turn at making a remark. ‘You’re not a bit like that.’
Miss Trimble was so pleased with this remark of Bets that she smiled, wrinkled her nose, and her glasses fell off.
‘That’s three times,’ said Bets. Miss Trimble put back her glasses and did not look quite so pleased. She couldn’t bear Bets to count like that.
‘We’d better be going,’ said Fatty. Then a thought struck him. ‘I suppose there aren’t any other Monday regulars on that bus, Miss Tremble - Trimble, I mean!’
‘You seem very interested in that bus!’ said Miss Trimble. ‘Well, let me think. There’s always old Nosey, of course. I don’t know why he didn’t go yesterday. He always goes up to the market.’
‘Old Nosey? Whoever is he?’ asked Fatty.
‘Oh, he’s the old fellow who lives with his wife in the caravan at the end of Rectory Field,’ said Miss Trimble. ‘Maybe you’ve never seen him.’