He thought it a wise
thing to do: it prevented any chance of their spending a large sum on
some sudden overwhelming impulse.

Then for some time their lives moved in a smooth uneventful groove.
The cats were despatched to the London dealer; the neatly painted board
came from Lady Ryehampton and was fixed up in the place of the Terror's
handiwork; they did their lessons in the morning; they rode out, along
with Wiggins who now had his bicycle, in the afternoons.

Then came December; and early in the month they began to consider the
important matter of their mother's Christmas present.

One morning they were down at the home, giving the kittens their
breakfasts and discussing it gravely. The kittens were indulging in
engaging gambols before falling into the sleep of repletion which
always followed their meals; but the Twins saw them with unsmiling
eyes, for the graver matter wholly filled their minds. They could see
their way to saving up seven or eight shillings for that present; and
so large a sum must be expended with judgment. It must procure
something not only useful but also attractive.

They had discussed at some length the respective advantages and
attractions of a hair-brush and a tortoise-shell comb to set in the
hair, when Erebus, frowning thoughtfully, said: "I know what she really
wants though."

"What's that?" said the Terror sharply.

"It's one of those fur stoles in the window of Barker's at Rowington,"
said Erebus. "I heard her sigh when she looked at it. She used to
have beautiful furs once--when father was alive. But she sold them--to
get things for us, I suppose. Uncle Maurice told me so--at least I got
it out of him."

The Terror was frowning thoughtfully, too; and he said in a tone of
decision: "How much is that stole?"

"Oh, it's no good thinking about it--it's three guineas," said Erebus
quickly.

"That's a mort o' money, as old Stubbs says," said the Terror; and the
frown deepened on his brow.

"I wonder if we could get it?" said Erebus, and a faint hopefulness
dawned in her eyes as she looked at his pondering face. "I should like
to. It must be hard on Mum not to have nice things--much harder than
for us, because we've never had them--at least, we had them when we
were small, but we never got used to them. So we've forgotten."

"No, we're all right as long as we have useful things," said the
Terror, without relaxing his thoughtful frown. "But you're right about
Mum--she