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.