“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.