The mention of a child made Miss Trimble remember Bets. "Oh," she said, trying to turn the conversation away from roses — "oh, there was such a dear little girl with Luke in the garden yesterday!"
Tupping's face grew as black as thunder. "A girl here!" he shouted. "Where's that Luke? I'll skin him if he lets those kids in here whilst my back is turned!"
He went off to find Luke. Miss Trimble shook with fright, and her glasses fell off and got so entangled in her lace collar that it took quite twenty minutes for her trembling hands to disentangle them.
"A most unpleasant fellow!" she kept murmuring to herself. "Dear, dear! I hope I haven't got poor Luke into trouble. He's such a pleasant fellow — and only a boy too. I do hope he won't get into trouble."
Luke was in trouble. Tupping strode up to him and glowered, his stone-coloured eyes almost hidden under his shaggy brows.
"Who was that girl in here yesterday?" he demanded. "One of them kids next door, was it? What was she doing here?"
"Nothing she shouldn't do, Mr. Tupping," said Luke. "She's a good little thing."
"I said 'What was she doing here?' " shouted Mr. Tupping. "Taking the peaches, I suppose — or picking the plums!"
"She's the little girl from next door," said Luke hotly. "She wouldn't take nothing like that. I just gave her some strawberry runners for her garden, that's all. They'd have been burnt on the rubbish-heap, anyway!"
Mr. Tupping looked as if he was going to have a fit. To think that Luke should give anyone anything out of his garden! He really thought it was his garden, and not Lady Candling's. He didn't stop to think that Lady Candling would willingly give a little girl a few strawberry runners, for she was fond of children.