Mystery #02 — The Mystery of the Disappearing Cat

Luke laughed his loud, clear laugh. "Ho, ho, ho, ho! Strawberries don't grow from strawberries, Bets! They grow from runners — you know, long stems sent out from the plants. The runners send up little new plants here and there. I'll tell you what I'll do — I'll give you a few of our runners from next door. I'm cleaning up the beds now, and there'll be a lot of runners thrown away on the rubbish-heap. You can have some of those."

"Will it matter?" asked Bets doubtfully. "Would they really be rubbish?"

"Yes — all burnt up on the rubbish-heap!" said Luke. "It's Tupping's day off tomorrow. You come on over the wall and I'll show you how the runners grow, and give you some."

So the next day Pip helped Bets over the wall and Luke helped her down the other side. He took her to the strawberry-bed and showed her the new plants growing from the runners sent out from the old plants.

"It's very clever of the strawberries to grow new plants like that, isn't it?" said Bets. She saw a pile of pulled-up runners in Luke's barrow nearby. "Oh," she said, "are these the ones you're going to throw away? How many can I have?"

"You take six," said Luke, and he picked out six good runners, each with little healthy strawberry plants on them. He gave them to Bets.

"Who's that?" said Bets suddenly, as she saw someone coming towards them.

"It's Miss Trimble," said Luke. "You needn't be afraid of her. She won't hurt you."

Miss Trimble came up, smiled at Bets. Bets didn't like her very much, she was so thin and bony. She wore glasses without rims, pinched on to the sides of her nose. They kept falling off, and dangled on a little chain. Bets watched to see how many times they would fall off.

"Well, and who is this little girl?" said Miss Trimble, in a gay, bird-like voice, nodding at Bets. Her glasses at once fell off and she put them on again.

"I'm Bets from next door," said Bets.

"And what have you got there?" said Miss Trimble, looking at the strawberry plants in Bets' hands. "Some lovely treasure?"

"No," said Bets. "Just some strawberry runners."

Miss Trimble's glasses fell off again and she put them back.

"Be careful they don't run away from you!" she said, and laughed loudly at her own joke. Bets didn't think it was very funny; but she laughed too, out of politeness. Miss Trimble's glasses fell off again.

"Why don't they keep on?" asked Bets with interest "Is your nose too thin to hold them on?"

"Oh, what a funny little girl!" said Miss Trimble, laughing again. "Well, good-bye my dear, I must away to my little jobs!"

She went off, and Bets was glad. "Her glasses fell off six times, Luke," she said.

"You're a caution, you are," said Luke. "I only hope she doesn't go and tell Mr. Tupping she saw you here!"

But that is just what Miss Trimble did do! She did not mean any harm. She did not even know that Tupping had ordered the children out of the garden some days before. She was picking roses the very next day, when Tupping came along behind her and stood watching her.

Miss Trimble began to feel scared, as she always did when the surly gardener came along. He was so rude. She turned and gave him a frightened smile.

"Lovely morning, Tupping, isn't it?" she said. "Beautiful roses these."

"Won't be beautiful long when you've finished messing about with them," said Tupping.

"Oh, I'm not spoiling them!" said Miss Trimble. "I know how to pick roses."

"You don't know any more than a child!" said surly Tupping, enjoying seeing how scared poor Miss Trimble was of him.

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!"