The Terrible Twins | Page 4

shabby
furniture. In a high good humor he went on shining and shining all
through tea; and though at the end of it his luster was for a while
dimmed by the discovery that he had left his cigarette-case at the inn
and there were no cigarettes in the house, he was presently shining
again. Then the Twins and Wiggins rose and retired firmly into the
garden.
They came out into the calm autumn evening with their souls seething.
"He's a pig--and a beast! We can't let Mum marry him! We must stop
it!" cried Erebus.
"It's all very well to say 'must.' But you know what Mum is: if she
thinks a thing is for our good, do it she will," said the Terror gloomily.
"And she never consults us--never!" cried Erebus.
"Only when she's a bit doubtful," said the Terror.
"Then she's not doubtful now. She hasn't said a word to us about it,"
said Erebus.
"That's what looks so bad. It looks as if she'd made up her mind already;
and if she has, it's no use talking to her," said the Terror yet more
gloomily.
They were silent; and the bright eyes of Wiggins moved expectantly
backward and forward from one to the other. He preserved a decorous
sympathetic silence.
"No, it's no good talking to Mum," said Erebus presently in a
despairing tone.
"Well, we must leave her out of it and just squash the Cruncher
ourselves," said the Terror.
"But you can't squash the Cruncher!" cried Erebus.

"Why not? We've squashed other people, haven't we?" said the Terror
sharply.
"Never any one so thick-skinned as him," said Erebus.
The Terror frowned deeply again: "We can always try," he said coldly.
"And look here: I've been thinking all tea-time: if stepchildren don't
like stepfathers, there's no reason why stepfathers should like
stepchildren."
"The Cruncher likes us, though it's no fault of ours," said Erebus.
"That's just it; he doesn't really know us. If he saw the kind of
stepchildren he was in for, it might choke him off," said the Terror.
"But he can't even see we hate him," objected Erebus.
"No, and if he did, he wouldn't mind, he'd think it a joke. My idea isn't
to show him how we feel, but to show him what we can do, if we give
our minds to it," said the Terror in a somewhat sinister tone.
Erebus gazed at him, taking in his meaning. Then a dazzling smile
illumined her charming face; and she cried: "Oh, yes! Let's give him
socks! Let's begin at once!"
"Yes: I'll help! I'm a trusty ally!" cried Wiggins; and he spurned the
earth joyfully at the thought.
They were silent a while, their faces grave and intent, cudgeling their
brains for some signal exploit with which to open hostilities.
Presently Wiggins said: "You might make him an apple-pie bed.
They're very annoying when you're sleepy."
He spoke with an air of experience.
"What's an apple-pie bed?" said Erebus scornfully.
Wiggins hung his head, abashed.

"It's a beginning, anyhow," said the Terror in an approving tone; and he
added with the air of a philosopher: "Little things, and big things, they
all count."
"I was trying to think how to break his leg; but I can't," said Erebus
bitterly.
"By Jove! That cigarette-case! Come on!" cried the Terror; and he led
the way swiftly out of the garden and took the path to Little Deeping.
"Where are we going?" said Erebus.
"We're going to make him that apple-pie bed. There's nothing like
making a beginning. We shall think of heaps of other things. If we don't
worry about them, they'll occur to us. They always do," said the Terror,
at once practical and philosophical.
They walked briskly down to The Plough, the one inn of Little Deeping,
where, as usual, Captain Baster was staying, and went in through the
front door which stood open. At the sound of their footsteps in her hall
the stout but good-humored landlady came bustling out of the bar to
learn what they wanted.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Pittaway," said the Terror politely. "We've come
for Captain Baster's cigarette-case. He's left it somewhere in his room."
At the thought of handling the shining cigarette-case Mrs. Pittaway
rubbed her hands on her apron; then the look of favor with which her
eyes had rested on the fair guileless face of the Terror, changed to a
frown; and she said: "Bother the thing! It's sure to be stuck somewhere
out of sight. And the bar full, too."
"Don't you trouble; I'll get it. I know the bedroom," said the Terror with
ready amiability; and he started to mount the stairs.
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Mrs. Pittaway, bustling back to the bar.
Erebus and Wiggins dashed lightly up the stairs