Part 8 (1/2)

Erebus executed a short but Bacchic dance which she invented on the spur of that marvelous moment.

”It's splendid--splendid!” she cried. ”It's the best thing you ever thought of!”

The Terror put the postal orders back into the envelope, and put the envelope into the breast pocket of his coat. A frown of the most thoughtful consideration furrowed his brow. Then he said firmly: ”The first thing, to do is to get the bicycles. If once we've got them, no one will take them away from us.”

”Of course they won't,” said Erebus, with eager acceptance of his idea.

The breakfast-bell rang; and they went into the house, Erebus spurning the earth as she went, in the very manner of Wiggins.

In the middle of breakfast the Terror said in a casual tone and with a casual air, as if he was not greatly eager for the boon: ”May we have the cow-house for our very own, Mum?”

”Oh, Terror! Surely you don't want to keep ferrets!” cried Mrs.

Dangerfield, who lived in fear of the Terror's developing that inevitable boyish taste.

”Oh, no; but if we had the cow-house to do what we liked with, I think we could make a little pocket-money out of it.”

”I am afraid you're growing terribly mercenary,” said his mother; then she added with a sigh: ”But I don't wonder at it, seeing how hard up you always are. You can have the cow-house. It's right at the end of the paddock--well away from the house--so that I don't see that you can do any harm with it whatever you do. But how are you going to make pocket-money out of it?”

”Oh, I haven't got it all worked out yet,” said the Terror quickly.

”But we'll tell you all about it when we have. Thanks ever so much for the cow-house.”

For the rest of breakfast he left the conversation to Erebus.

The Terror was blessed with a masterly prudence uncommon indeed in a boy of his years. He changed but one of the six postal orders at Little Deeping--that would make talk enough--and then, having begged a holiday from the vicar, he took the train to Rowington, their market town, ten miles away, taking Erebus with him. There he changed three more postal orders; and then the Twins took their way to the bicycle shop, with hearts that beat high.

The Terror set about the purchase in a very careful leisurely way which, in any one else, would have exasperated the highly strung Erebus to the very limits of endurance; but where the Terror was concerned she had long ago learned the futility of exasperation. He began by an exhaustive examination of every make of bicycle in the shop; and he made it with a thoroughness that worried the eager bicycle-seller, one of those smart young men who pamper a chin's pa.s.sion for receding by letting a straggly beard try to cover it, till his nerves were all on edge. Then the Terror, drawing a handful of sovereigns out of his pocket and gazing at them lovingly, seemed unable to make up his mind whether to buy two bicycles or one; and the bearded but chinless young man perspired with his eloquent efforts to demonstrate the advantage of buying two. He was quite weary when the persuaded Terror proceeded to develop the point that there must be a considerable reduction in price to the buyer of two bicycles. Then he made his offer: he would give fourteen pounds for two eight-pound-ten bicycles. His serenity was quite unruffled by the seller's furious protests. Then the real struggle began. The Terror came out of it with two bicycles, two lamps, two bells and two baskets of a size to hold a cat; the seller came out of it with fifteen pounds; and the triumphant Twins wheeled their machines out of the shop.

The Terror stood still and looked thoughtfully up and down High Street.

Then he said: ”We've saved the cats' home quite two pounds.”

”Yes,” said Erebus.

”And it's made me awfully hungry and thirsty doing it,” said the Terror.

”It must have--arguing like that,” said Erebus quickly; and her eyes brightened as she caught his drift.

”Well, I think the home ought to pay for refreshment. It's a long ride home,” said the Terror.

”Of course it ought,” said Erebus with decision.

Without more ado they wheeled their bicycles down the street to a confectioner's shop, propped them up carefully against the curb, and entered the shop with an important moneyed air.

At the end of his fourth jam tart the Terror said: ”Of course overseers have a salary.”

”Of course they do,” said Erebus.

”That settles the matter of pocket-money,” said the Terror. ”We'll have sixpence a week each.”