ut it did not come in the
way of a regular allowance; it had to be obtained by diplomacy or work;
and the processes of getting it had given the Terror the liveliest
interest in financial matters. He was resolved that the cats' home and
the wages of "overseering" should last as long as possible.

But it soon grew clear to him that, with milk at threepence halfpenny a
quart, the kittens would soon drink themselves out of house and home.

He discussed the matter with Erebus and Wiggins; and they agreed with
him that milk spelled ruin. But they could see no way of reducing the
price of milk; and they were sure that it was the necessary food for
growing kittens.

Their faces were somewhat gloomy at the end of the discussion; and a
heavy silence had fallen on them. Then of a sudden the face of the
Terror brightened; and he said with a touch of triumph in his tone:
"I've got it; we'll feed them on skim-milk."

"They feed pigs on skim-milk, not kittens," said Erebus scornfully.

That was indeed the practise at Little Deeping. Butter-making was its
chief industry; and the skim-milk went to the pigs.

"If it fattens pigs, it will fatten kittens," said the Terror firmly.

"But how can we get it? They don't sell it about here," said Erebus.
"And you know what they are: if Granfeytner didn't sell skim-milk,
nobody's going to sell skim-milk to-day."

"Oh, yes: old Stubbs will sell it," said the Terror confidently.

"Old Stubbs! But he hates us worse than any one!" cried Erebus.

"Oh, yes; he doesn't like us. But he's awfully keen on money; every
one says so. And he won't care whose money he gets so long as he gets
it. Come on; we'll go and talk to him about it," said the Terror.

The Twins went firmly across the common to the house of farmer Stubbs
and knocked resolutely. The maid, who was well aware that her master
and the Twins were not on friendly terms, admitted them with some
hesitation. The Twins had never entered the farmer's house before,
though they had often entered his orchard; and they felt slightly
uncomfortable. They found the parlor into which they were shown
uncommonly musty.

Presently Mr. Stubbs came to them, pulling doubtfully at the Newgate
fringe that ran bristling under his chin, with a look of deep suspicion
in his small, ferrety, red-rimmed eyes. Even when he learned that they
had come on business, his face did not brighten till the Terror
incidentally dropped a sovereign on the floor