"I'VE accepted an invitation for you, children," Mrs. Glanville said to Kitty and Bob during the dinner hour on the Monday following the athletic sports. "Tim came in this morning and asked my permission for you to take tea with him next Saturday afternoon."
"How nice!" exclaimed Kitty. "Of course, his uncle told him to ask us, mother?"
"Yes," Mrs. Glanville assented. "He brought a polite message from Mr. Shuttleworth."
"I rather wanted to play cricket on Saturday afternoon," said Bob, who was not so elated at the prospect of spending an hour or so next door as his sister. "But I suppose if you accepted the invitation, mother, we must go."
"Of course we must go," interposed Kitty. "Oh, please Bob, don't try to back out of going."
"I won't," Bob answered, laughing. "Come outdoors, Kitty; I've something to say to you privately," he added in a lower tone.
"I say, Kitty," Bob commenced, when the garden was reached, "do you know I'm beginning to think Fluffy may have come from Tim Shuttleworth, after all, and I'll tell you why I think so. When I got home from school half an hour ago, I thought I'd come in by the back door, and there, standing watching your rabbit, was the butcher boy—he delivers meat at Mr. Shuttleworth's too, it seems."
"Yes, he's been with Mudge, the butcher, for a long while," remarked Kitty. "His name's Dick Dart, and his mother's a widow who takes in washing—I've heard him tell cook so. Last year he received nearly five pounds in Christmas-boxes, and he's going to save his money to start for himself."
"Oh, never mind that," broke in Bob, who was not interested in the ambitions of the butcher boy, like his sister, whose nature it was to concern herself in other people's business. "But listen to me. There was the fellow watching your rabbit, as I said before."
"'That rabbit is getting as fat as butter,' he said, 'and its coat improves every day. Old Dottin would hardly know it.' I stared at that. 'Isn't it one of old Jacob Dottin's?' he went on, seeing, I suppose, that I was very surprised. 'I don't know,' I answered, 'someone made a present of it to my sister.' He laughed and winked. 'I understand,' he said, it's a secret who that someone is, but I expect it's the same person I recommended to go to old Dottin when he asked me if I knew anyone who had rabbits to sell.' 'Who was that?' I inquired. He's an aggravating boy, Kitty, he wouldn't tell me; but putting two and two together I think he may have meant Tim Shuttleworth, for Tim knows Jacob Dottin."