Rupert set off through a light drizzle towards Grandmama's Volvo, where sandwiches had been laid out on tea trays in the boot. He wondered if the Lower Pemberley policeman would pay them another visit that afternoon. The day before, he'd been surprised to spot the blue uniform in amongst the farm coats and shirtsleeves worn by the other men, but had gathered from the general lack of reaction that it had been an expected part of life on the farm – at least where dipping was concerned. The constable certainly hadn't turned up to the sheering any time Rupert had been there, although it was quite possible that he'd been at one or more of the well dressing events in plain clothes.
Sure enough, Papa was talking to the village policeman when Rupert returned from his errand carrying two rounds of cheese and pickle sandwiches.
"Have you met Hurst yet?" Papa indicated the constable. "He's come to sample the sheep dip – to check that we've got the dilution right again today."
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