(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green by Miss Read

them. And a rather strange fellow came to see me.'
    That, thought Dimity, would be enough to put anyone off. Dotty's kitchen alone would strike horror into the heart of anyone trying to find a home for a stray cat, let alone a young human being.
    'Are you sure he was from one of the societies?' asked Charles. 'Some very odd people call at houses these days to see if they are worth burgling later.'
    Dotty dismissed this alarmist suggestion.
    'Oh, he showed me some papers and a card which guaranteed his claims. I rather forget which society he represented, but I gave him a cup of coffee. He left most of it,' she added. 'Rather a waste of Dulcie's good goat's milk, I thought, but dear old Flossie finished it up when he had gone.'
    She patted the cocker spaniel at her feet with affection. Flossie's tail thumped appreciatively on the rectory floor.
    'I feel obliged to say this,' said Charles. 'I am positive that this idea of yours—though well-meant, and typical of your generosity, Dotty my dear—is quite wrong, and I can't help feeling that no adoption society would find you a suitable person to bring up a child.'
    'And why not?' demanded Dotty, turning pink with wrath. 'I should put the child's interest first every time. There is plenty of room in my cottage, and all those lovely animals to enjoy. And of course I intend to leave my possessions, such as they are, to the child when I die.'
    The kind rector sighed, but stuck to his guns. As Dimity, and all his parishioners knew well, his gentle manner cloaked an inflexible will when it came to doing his duty.
    Give up the idea, Dotty. Why not invite a younger relative or friend to share the cottage and to help you with your charges. What about Connie? You enjoy her company.'
    Connie was Dotty's niece, a cheerful single woman in her forties, who lived some sixty miles west of Thrush Green and occasionally called on her aunt.
    'Connie has quite enough to do with her own small-holding,' replied Dotty. 'And now she has taken up breeding Shetland ponies, and could not possibly find time to move in with me—even if she had the inclination.'
    She reflected for a moment.
    'Of course, if I could buy that small paddock of Percy Hodge's, there might be an incentive for Connie to bring the ponies there. I must say I should enjoy their company.'
    'And Connie's too, I trust.'
    Dotty shrugged her thin shoulders.
    'Oh, Connie's quite a reasonable gel. David brought her up very sensibly without too much money to spend, but I don't want Connie. And I'm quite sure Connie doesn't want me !'
    She rose to her feet, hitched up her wrinkled stockings, and set off for the door, followed by the faithful Flossie.
    'I'm quite sure all your advice is for the best, Charles,' she told him. 'But I know what I want, and I don't intend to give up my plans just yet. Have a good holiday in Yorkshire. I shall call on Edgar and Hilda when they have settled in, and bring them a goat's cheese which is already maturing nicely in the larder.'
    And on this gruesome note she left them.

    The possibility of some poor unfortunate child finding itself adopted by Dotty was an absorbing topic of conversation for the residents of Thrush Green and Lulling.
    All agreed that the idea was typical of Dotty—generous but outrageous. However, the general feeling was summed up by Willie Bond, Willie Marchant's fellow postman.
    'No one in his right mind's going to let the old girl have a child living in that pig sty. Stands to reason, these adoption people know what they're up to. She doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell.'
    It gave his listeners some comfort.
    Equally absorbing was the strange behaviour of Percy Hodge during the indisposition of Winnie Bailey's Jenny.
    The present of eggs was followed by some lamb chops, a box of soap, a large tray of pansy seedlings which Winnie felt obliged to bed out in pouring rain, and several bunches of flowers.
    Jenny was bewildered by these attentions, and somewhat scornful.
    'What will