"Well, they were most awfully good bruises," said Bets, remembering. "They did turn a wonderful colour. I wish my bruises went like that."
Larry and Daisy came back the next day about three o'clock. After tea they raced off to see Pip and Bets. It was lovely to be all together again. Bets felt a little left-out after a bit, because she was the only one who did not go to boarding-school, and did not understand some of the things the others said.
"I wish I wasn't only eight years old," she thought for about the thousandth time. "Larry's thirteen, and the others are twelve — ages older than me. I shall never catch them up."
Just as they were all exchanging their news, and laughing and chattering gaily, there came the scampering of feet up the drive, and a small black Scottie dog hurled himself into the middle of them, yapping excitedly.
"It's Buster! Oh, Buster, you're back again!" cried Daisy in delight "Good old Buster!"
"Dear old Buster! You're fatter!"
"Hallo, Buster-dog! Glad to see you, old fellow!"
"Darling Buster! I've missed you so!"
They were all so engaged in making a fuss of the excited little dog that they didn't see Fatty, Buster's master, walking up to them. Bets saw him first. She jumped to her feet with a squeal, and rushed to Fatty. She flung her arms round him and hugged him. Fatty was pleased. He liked little Bets. He gave her a hug back.
The others grinned at him. "Hallo, Fatty!" said Larry. "Had a good term?"