Frodo found the Flock bungalow easily by walking back to the narrow side-lane he had passed on his way to Mrs. Scuttle's home and following it. He'd gone a little less than a mile before he came upon a small smial in the chalky hillside. Two small children were playing in the tall grass atop the bungalow, and a toddling baby was in the fenced yard before the open front door; the latter gazed up at him with wide-eyed wonderment as he stood at the gate and called out, "Hello?"
A male hobbit of about five-and-forty came to the door.
"Mr. Flock?" Frodo guessed that this must be the late gardener's son.
"That's right." As he answered, a woman also came to the door, drying her hands on her apron and staring at the stranger with frank curiosity. From her age and matronly appearance, plus the way she leaned close to Mr. Flock and lay a hand on his arm, Frodo thought it more likely that she was his wife and the mother of the three children.
"I'm looking for your sister, Tessa," Frodo explained. "Mrs. Scuttle thought you might know where she's gone since leaving her service."
"Aye, I know," Mr. Flock answered shortly. "She's come home here to us." The look he gave Frodo was slightly suspicious. "What d'you want with her?"
"I'd like to talk to her about Malbo Glossum."
Mr. Flock reddened, but his wife asked, "You're that detective, aren't you? We heard tell that he was a fine gent."
"Now what's that got to do with it?" her husband asked incredulously. "Fine gent or not, what business does he have poking his nose in our family's private business?" He turned from her back to Frodo with the question.
"I am the detective," Frodo told them. "You must know I'm investigating the death of Malbo Glossum. I'd like to talk to everyone who knew him, to gain an impression of the sort of hobbit he was-"
"Oh, we could tell you the sort of hobbit he was," Mr. Flock cut him off. "But you're not talking to Tessa about him. She's all upset since she heard about his dying--and she don't have nothing to do with it, if that's what you're trying to find out! She'd no reason to see him dead."
"No," agreed Mrs. Flock, "and good reason to see him live long enough to marry her as he proper ought to."
Frodo understood; he saw now why the Flocks were so wary and hostile, and why Tessa had gone quietly home. It was as much as he could hope to hear from the girl herself, and he decided not to question her family any further. "Then I won't trouble her," he said, stepping back from the gate. "My apologies for disturbing you. But will you please tell your sister I called, in case she wishes to talk to me while I'm here?"
"I'll tell her," said Mr. Flock, "but she won't change her mind. It's best she forgets all about him."
As he was heading back toward the lane into Gamwich, pondering the intriguing hint Mrs. Flock had provided about Tessa's condition and what it meant to his investigation, Frodo saw two young ladies coming up the way toward him. To his surprise, he recognized them, for he'd met them briefly yesterday, at their family farm. "Why, it's the Miss Applegroves, isn't it?" They'd been introduced, but he hadn't had a chance to speak to them privately, and he was hoping to.
Petula Applegrove, the younger and prettier sister, was wearing a brightly colored dress and her hair was a mass of curls and ribbons. Although neither her brother nor parents had said a word about it when Frodo had asked them about Malbo, the gossip among the farm laborers was that Malbo had paid too much attention to her while working in the orchard last autumn.
Pendira, the elder sister, was more soberly dressed and wore her hair parted sharply down the middle and drawn back into a knot. "Mr. Baggins," she greeted him. "Whatever brings you out this way?"
"I've been calling upon the Flocks," he answered. "You know them?"
"Of course."
"We were just going to see them ourselves," added Petula. "Surely you don't think they're involved in this awful business, Mr. Baggins?"
"I've been considering all the young ladies who might've been- ah- friendly with Malbo Glossum. I'd heard that Tessa had been dismissed from her last place because of him."
"That awful old Mrs. Scuttle?" Petula wrinkled her pert, turned-up nose. "But it wasn't poor Tessa's fault at all. She had nothing to do with it. The stolen spoons and such, I mean."
She seemed to know all about it, Frodo observed. "You must be friends."
"We've known her since we were little girls," said Pendira. "Her father used to come and tend the apple trees for us."
"Tell me--she's going to have a baby, isn't she?" Even before they answered, Frodo could see by the looks on their faces that he was correct.
"Did Tessa tell you that?" asked Petula. "I don't believe it. She'd never tell a stranger such a thing. She didn't even tell us `til after Malbo died-" Her sister gave her a sharp look, and the girl shut her mouth and looked apologetic.
"Yes, she is, Mr. Baggins," Pendira answered. "But she didn't tell you."
"No," Frodo admitted. "I didn't speak to her. Her brother wouldn't let me in. But from what they told me, I guessed at the truth. Mrs. Scuttle didn't know about it when she dismissed your friend?" He was certain that the old lady would have told him if she'd had any suspicion of it.
Pendira shook her head. "I don't believe Tessa knew it herself when she left her place. It'll be a great scandal when it can't be kept secret, Mr. Baggins. It's a shameful thing for an unmarried girl to be caught out, especially a working girl like poor Tessa. You've seen how her brother behaves about it. She's no chance of a husband... if she ever had any."
"We're doing our best to help her," added Petula. "To make up for it."
"I've heard that Malbo had a reputation for such behavior with pretty girls," Frodo said rather delicately, attempting to move from the subject of the unfortunate Tessa to the experience of one of the young ladies currently standing before him.
"Indeed," said Pendira. "He was a charming hobbit. Lots of girls around Gamwich were heels over ears about him when he first came to town last year. He made promises of marriage..." She was regarding her younger sister. "We needn't dodge about it, Mr. Baggins. Some tattle-tale must've told you that Malbo paid too much attention to Petula as well. It might've been you caught out, Pet."
Petula's face turned as pink as her ribbons. "Nonsense! Malbo never proposed to me. I never even let him kiss me... except for that once." Her pink face went pale as the two sisters stared at each other, until the younger cast her eyes down.
"Is that why your father dismissed him from working in the orchard last autumn?" Frodo asked them.
"No," said Petula. "The apples were all in by then anyway. But between that and the bushels that went missing, Malbo wouldn't have been asked to come back and work for us again next harvest, if he'd still been here. It wasn't because he was a laborer. Papa wouldn't mind me keeping company with a poor, working lad, if he was honest and promising. We aren't such snobs--we're only farmers ourselves, you know, and Papa would be happy to have another pair of hands around to help. When Malbo first came to the orchard, everybody liked him, but... well, the better we knew him, the less we found to like."
"You might say the same for everyone in Gamwich," said Pendira. "If you'll pardon us, Mr. Baggins, we have our call to make."
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