Chapter 10
The Striped Sock's Tale
Next, a cheerful striped sock needs returning. This leads them to a playful group of children in a meadow. The phone's advice becomes even more whimsical, perhaps involving a game of tag or a picnic.
The striped sock, whose name, I learned, was Bartholomew, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, oh, oh! This is it! I can practically smell Mrs. Higgins's lavender soap from here!" Bartholomew, it turned out, was a sock of discerning taste and a nose for cleanliness. He was also, I was discovering, rather prone to hyperbole.
"Are you sure, Bartholomew?" I asked, peering at the phone’s screen. It was displaying a rather vague image of what looked like a particularly fluffy cloud. "The phone just says 'near the giggling daisies.'"
"Giggling daisies!" Bartholomew exclaimed, bouncing on the palm of my hand. "That's definitely Mrs. Higgins's meadow! She always said the daisies there looked like they were telling secrets. And she’s got a new granddaughter, you see, little Lily. Lily, who adores stripey socks! It’s a perfect match!"
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