dogs barked angrily and growled furiously. All the children yelled at Buster.
“Come here, Buster - come here, sir! BUSTER, come here!”
But Buster was not going to turn tail and run away in the middle of a fight. He enjoyed a fight, and he hardly ever got one. He didn’t mind about the other dog being bigger than he was - he could bite as hard as he did!
The front door opened and someone came out. It was a pleasant, plump, middle-aged lady, looking very worried. She ran up the path.
“Oh dear! is Thomas attacking your dog?” she said. “Thomas, stop it!”
But neither Thomas nor Buster took the slightest notice. This was their own enjoyable, private fight, and they were going on with it.
Bets cried bitterly. She was very upset at the noise and scuffling, and terribly afraid that Buster might be killed. The plump lady was distressed to hear Bets’ sobs.
“Half a minute, dear - I know how to stop them!” she said to Bets. “Don’t cry any more!”
She rushed indoors and came out again with a large pail of water. She threw it over both the snarling dogs.
They had such a shock as the icy water drenched them that they both leapt back from one another in horror. Miss Crump at once caught hold of Thomas, and Fatty made a grab for Buster.
“You bad dog, Thomas!” scolded the plump lady. “You shall be locked in your kennel yard all day.”
She turned to the children. “Just wait whilst I put him into his kennel,” she said, “then I’ll be back.”
She went off round the house, leading a cross and disappointed Thomas.
“Is that Miss Crump?” whispered Larry.
Fatty nodded. “I expect so. I say - look at poor old Buster. He’s been bitten on this leg. He’s bleeding.”
Bets sobbed with shock and misery. She couldn’t bear to see Buster bleeding. Buster was the only one who didn’t seem to mind about his bite. He licked his leg, then wagged his tail hard as if to say, “Jolly good fight, that. Pity it ended so soon.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Buster,” said Daisy. “That horrid big dog flew at you.”
Miss Crump came back, looking very sorry about the whole affair. Bets was still crying. She put her arm round the little girl and hugged her.
“Stop crying, dear,” she said. “That bad dog Thomas hasn’t hurt your little dog very much. Thomas is such a fighter. He’s my brother’s dog, and if any other dog or cat so much as sets a foot in this garden, he flies into a temper and pounces on them.”
“Poor B-b-b-buster’s b-b-b-bleeding,” wailed Bets, who never liked the sight of blood.
“Well, we’ll take him indoors and bathe his leg and put a bandage on. How would you like that?” said Miss Crump.
“Yes. I’d like that,” said Bets, drying her eyes. She thought Buster would look lovely with a bandaged leg. She would love him a lot.
“Well, come along then,” said Miss Crump. “Leave your bicycles by the gate. That’s right. My name is Miss Crump, and I live here with my brother.”
“Oh!” said Daisy, and thought she had better tell Miss Crump their names too. So she introduced every one politely. Soon they were in a comfortable cosy sitting-room, and Miss Crump was bathing Buster’s leg and bandaging it beautifully. Buster liked all the attention immensely.
“I believe Cook has just made some buns,” said Miss Crump, beaming round at the children when she had finished the bandaging. “Could you manage one or two, do you think?”
Every one was sure that plenty of buns could be “managed.” They thought Miss Crump was very nice. When she went to get the buns, Fatty nudged Daisy.
“You’d better start off asking questions,” he said. “It’s a wonderful chance, this.”
Daisy wondered how to begin asking questions about Milton House, but it was all unexpectedly easy.
When Miss Crump came back with the buns, she handed them round and said, “Where have you bicycled from? Very far?”
“Oh no.” said Daisy. “Only from Peterswood. We live there.”
“Do you really?” said Miss Crump, offering a bun to the surprised and grateful Buster. “Well, you know, I nearly went to live there a year ago. I don’t expect you know a place called Milton House, do you?”
“Oh yes, we do,” answered every one in a chorus.
Miss Crump looked surprised to think that Milton House should apparently be so well known.
“I bought Milton House.” said Miss Crump, taking a bun herself. “My brother wanted to live in this county, and he seemed to think Milton House would do for us.”
“Oh!” said Daisy, after a nudge from Fatty. “Well - er - why didn’t you go and live there, then? I mean - you seem to live here.”
This wasn’t very clever, but Miss Crump went on cheerfully, “Well, after I’d bought it, a funny thing happened.”
The children pricked up their ears at once. Buster, sensing the general feeling of interest, pricked his up too. “What funny thing happened?” asked Bets eagerly.
“A man came to see me, and begged and begged me to let him buy the house from me,” said Miss Crump, “and all because it used to belong to his dear old mother, and he had been brought up in it, and wanted to go there with his wife and children and live there himself! As he offered me very much more than I had paid for it, which was, let me see, now -”
“Three thousand pounds,” said Pip obligingly, remembering what Fatty had told him.
He got a sharp and angry nudge from both Fatty and Larry immediately. Miss Crump stared at Pip in great astonishment.
“Now how in the world did you know that?” she said. “What an extraordinary thing! That was the price I paid. But how did you know?”
Pip was scarlet. He couldn’t think what to say. Fatty as usual came to the rescue.
“He’s an awfully good guesser!” he said earnestly. “Simply awfully good. It’s a sort of gift, I suppose. It’s wonderful what a good guesser Pip is, isn’t it?” he said, turning to the others and glaring at them to make them say yes.
They said at once. “Oh yes - a very good guesser,” they all said in chorus.
Fortunately Miss Crump seemed satisfied with this simple explanation. “Well, I don’t know why I’m rambling on like this to you,” she said. “It must be very dull - but it was you mentioning that you came from Peterswood, you know, that reminded me of Milton House. Of course, I’m glad now that we didn’t go there, because almost at once I found this place, which is much nicer.”
“Oh, much!” said Fatty. “It’s delightful. Fancy that man wanting to live in Milton House just because he had been brought up there himself, Miss Crump! What did you say his name was?”
“Well - I didn’t say, did I?” said Miss Crump, surprised. “But possibly you know him. I expect he lives there now, and maybe you know the children.”
Nobody said that Milton House was empty. Nobody said that there were certainly no children there. They did not want to give anything away. The mystery seemed to be getting deeper and deeper!
“Is his name Popps?” said Fatty, saying the first name that came into his head in order to make Miss Crump think of the right name.
“No, no - nothing like that,” said Miss Crump. “Wait a minute - I believe I’ve got a letter from him somewhere. I usually keep all business letters for two years, you know, then destroy them. Ah, here it is! Oh dear! where are my glasses?”
It was clear that Miss Crump couldn’t read anything without her glasses. She stood by her desk, holding a letter in her hand, looking helplessly round for her glasses.
Then Pip showed himself to be really very clever. He saw the glasses on the table near by him in their case. He pushed them quickly down the side of the chair he was sitting on, and then got up. He went to Miss Crump’s side.
“Let me help you,” he said. “I can read the name for you.”
“But where are my glasses?” said Miss Crump. “I really must find them.”
She couldn’t find them, of course, and in the end she let Pip read the name for her. He read it out loud, “John Henry Smith.” But, whilst he was reading out this very ordinary name, his eyes were also taking in the address at
