The following evening, however, Matthew walked into the sitting room with his shoulders slumping in dejection. “I can’t find Marmaduke anywhere. And it’s hours past his dinner time. This really isn’t like him.”
“Where have you looked for him?” George asked, glancing up from his newspaper and privately thinking this behaviour was, actually, just like Marmaduke. He’d wondered where on earth Matthew had got to. It was rather lonely in the sitting room without him.
Matthew shrugged helplessly. “Oh, all the usual places—round by the rabbit hutch, next door’s chicken coop, you know.”
“Maybe we should take a walk and see if we can spot him?” George suggested, more out of a desire for Matthew’s company than any real concern about the animal, which had always given every indication of being well
