Mystery of the Strange Bundle Read Free

queer. Apparently you couldn’t play about with “flu” too much even if you were feeling better!
    “Larry and Daisy are much better,” said Bets. “They’re both up and about now, though they haven’t been out yet. Daisy says they’ll be out tomorrow if it’s sunny. They’re most frightfully bored, though, and keep wishing something would happen.”
    “How’s Pip?” asked Fatty.
    “Oh, he’s better, except in his temper,” said Bets. “Don’t you go and get bad-tempered too, Fatty, when you’re almost better! Oh - and I nearly forgot to tell you - I met Mr. Goon this morning!”
    “Ah - the great Goon,” said Fatty, half-sitting up at the mention of his old enemy’s name. “And what had he to say?”
    “Well, he said ‘Gah’ at me, fell off his bicycle, and sat down hard in the road,” said Bets, with a giggle.
    “Couldn’t be better,” said Fatty, hard-heartedly. “And what else had he got to say beside ‘Gah’?”
    Bets told him. “He said he’d had a nice peaceful time without that nosey-parker of a fat boy interfering all the time,” she said. “He was really rather rude. He said it was a good thing you were in bed and out of mischief - and you’d be back at school again before you’d time to do any!”
    “Ha!” said Fatty, sitting up straight now, and looking very determined. “That’s what he thinks, does he? Well, I’ll be up proper tomorrow - and out the next day - and Goon had better be on his guard. Things will happen as soon as I’m up!”
    “What things?” asked Bets, thrilled. “A mystery, do you mean? Oh, Fatty!”
    “Yes - a Mystery - even if I have to make one up myself,” said Fatty. “If Goon thinks he’s ever going to have a nice peaceful holiday when we’re home, he’s wrong. Bets, we’ll have some fun when I’m up. Gosh, it makes me feel better again already to think of it.”
    “What sort of fun?” asked Bets, her eyes shining. “Oh, Fatty, I wish a real mystery would turn up again - but there isn’t time now - we’ll all be back at school before we could solve it - if one did turn up!”
    “Never mind - we’ll have some fun with old Goon first,” said Fatty. “I’ll plan it. We’ll all be in it. I’ll think up something, don’t you worry.”
    Bets knew he would. There was absolutely no one like Fatty for thinking up things. He slithered down into bed again and shut his eyes.
    “Are you feeling all right?” asked Bets anxiously.
    “Gosh, yes - I just got an idea, that’s all,” said Fatty. “You know how ideas come - all in a flash from your imagination - you don’t even have to think of them.”
    “They don’t come to me like that,” said Bets. “I have to think hard before I dig up an idea - and even then it’s hardly ever a good one. You’re a genius, Fatty!”
    “Well,” said Fatty, modestly, “I wouldn’t quite say that, you know - but I can make rings round most people, can’t I? I mean - look how we’ve solved all those mysteries when I’ve been on the job, and…”
    Fatty spent the next ten minutes unashamedly boasting, and Bets listened, unashamedly worshipping the boaster. In fact, they both had a very nice time.
    “What’s the time?” said Fatty suddenly. “Surely it must be dinner-time, Bets. Have you got any more bull’s-eyes for me? I’m starving.”
    “I think I can hear dinner coming now,” said Bets. “Yes - it’s your mother. I’ll go and help her with the trays.”
    Mrs. Trotteville appeared, bearing a tray with two steaming platefuls of soup. Fatty eyed them in disappointment. “Oh, Mother! Soup again! When am I going to have a real decent meal? I’ll never get better on soup!”
    “You said yesterday that you couldn’t possibly take even a spoonful of soup!” said his mother, putting the tray down. “Don’t worry. There’s roast chicken and all the etceteras if you want some.”
    “That’s better,” said Fatty. “What’s the pudding? Save me two helpings, Mother.”
    Mrs. Trotteville laughed. “Oh, Frederick - you do go to extremes. All right - the doctor says you can be fed up well now your