“It’s an emergency exit—like the theaters have—only it’s an entrance,” said the Terror. “But thank goodness, we’ve begun at last; now we can have salaries for ‘overseering’.”
During the course of the next week they added seven more small kittens to their stock; and it seemed good to the Terror to inform Lady Ryehampton that the home was already constructed and in process of occupation. Accordingly Erebus wrote a letter, by no means devoid of enthusiasm, informing her that it already held eleven inmates, “saved from the awful death of drowning.” Lady Ryehampton replied promptly in a spirit of warm gratification that they had been so quick starting it.
But with eleven inmates in the home the Twins presently found themselves grappling earnestly with the food problem and the account-book.
The Terror was not unfitted for financial operations. Till they were six years old the Twins had lived luxuriously at Dangerfield Hall, in Monmouth, with toys beyond the dreams of Alnaschar. Then their father had fallen into the hands of a firm of gambling stock-brokers, had along with them lost nearly all his money, and presently died, leaving Mrs. Dangerfield with a very small income indeed. All the while since his death it had been a hard struggle to make both ends meet; and the Twins had had many a lesson in learning to do without the desires of their hearts.
But their desires were strong; the wits of the Terror were not weak; and taking one month with another the Twins had as much pocket-money as the bulk of the children of the well-to-do. But 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.