“Erebus did quite as much as I did,” said the Terror quickly.
“And Wiggins helped a lot. He’s a friend of ours,” said Erebus no less quickly.
Lady Ryehampton’s face softened to Erebus—to Erebus, the instructor of parrots.
Sir Maurice joined them. His eyes were red and moist, as if they had but now been full of tears.
“It’s a very creditable piece of work,” he said in a tone of warm approval.
Lady Ryehampton looked round the home once more; and her face fell. She said uneasily: “But you must be heavily in debt.”
“In debt?” said the Terror. “Oh, no; we couldn’t be. Mother would hate us to be in debt.”
“I thought—a cats’ home—oh, but I am glad I brought my check-book with me!” cried Lady Ryehampton.
She could not understand why Sir Maurice uttered a short sharp howl. She did not know that the Terror dug him sharply in the ribs as Erebus kicked him joyfully on the ankle-bone; that they had simultaneously realized that the future of the home, the wages of “overseering,” were secure.