As he was leaving the house he said: “Look here; the place for us to sell them is Rowington. The people round here sell most of their things at Rowington—butter and eggs and poultry and rabbits.”
“And Ellen would sell them for us—in the market,” said Erebus quickly.
“Of course she would! You see, you think of things, too!” cried the Terror; and he went off to his lessons with an almost cheerful air.
After lunch they rode to Great Deeping to discuss with Ellen the matter of selling their kittens. She had been their nurse for the first four years of their stay at Colet House; and she had left them to marry a small farmer. She had an affection for them, especially for the Terror; and she had not lost touch with them. She welcomed them warmly, ushered them into her little parlor, brought in a decanter of elderberry wine and a cake. When she had helped them to cake and poured out their wine, the Terror broached the matter that had brought them to her house.
Ellen’s mind ran firmly and unswerving in the groove of butter and eggs and poultry, which she carried every market-day to Rowington in her pony-cart. She laughed consumedly at the Terror’s belief that any one would want to buy kittens. But unmoved by her open incredulity, he was very patient with her and persuaded her to try, at any rate, to sell their kittens at her stall in Rowington market. Ellen consented to make the attempt, for she had always found it difficult to resist the Terror when he had set his mind on a thing, and she was eager to oblige him; but she held out no hopes of success.
The Terror came away content, since he had gained his end, and did not share her despondency. Erebus, on the other hand, infected by Ellen’s pessimism, rode in a gloomy depression.
Presently her face brightened; and with an air of inspiration she said: “I tell you what: even if we don’t sell those kittens, we can always buy the stole. There’s all that cats’ home money in the bank. We can take as much of it as we want, and pay it back by degrees.”
“No, we can’t,” said the Terror firmly. “We’re not going to use that money for anything but the cats’ home. I promised Mum I wouldn’t. Besides, she’d like the stole ever so much better if we’d really earned it ourselves.”
“But we shan’t,” said Erebus gloomily. “If we sold all the kittens, it will only make twenty-three shillings.”
“Then we must find something else to sell,” said the Terror with decision.