Though it wanted a full week to Christmas, the Terror lost no time making the purchase. As he told Erebus, they would get the choice of more stoles if they bought it before the Christmas rush. Accordingly on the afternoon after the sale of the hare they rode into Rowington to buy it.

It was an uncommonly cold afternoon, for a bitter east wind was blowing hard; and when they dismounted at the door of Barker's shop, Erebus gazed wistfully across the road at the appetizing window of Springer, the confectioner, and said sadly:

"It's a pity it isn't Sat.u.r.day and we had our 'overseering' salary. We might have gone to Springer's and had a jolly good blow-out for once."

The Terror gazed at Springer's window thoughtfully, and said: "Yes, it is a pity. We ought to have remembered it was Christmas-time and paid ourselves in advance."

He followed Erebus into the shop with a thoughtful air, and seemed somewhat absent-minded during her examination of the stoles. She was very thorough in it; and both of them were nearly sure that she had chosen the very best of them. The girl who was serving them made out the bill; and the Terror drew the little bag which held the three guineas (since it was all in silver they had been able to find no purse of a capacity to hold it), emptied its contents on the counter, and counted them slowly.

He had nearly finished, and the girl had nearly wrapped up the stole when a flash of inspiration brightened his face; and he said firmly: "I shall want five per cent. discount for cash."

"Oh, we don't do that sort of thing here," said the girl quickly.

"This is such an old-established establishment."

"I can't help that. I must have discount for cash," said the Terror yet more firmly.

The girl hesitated; then she called Mr. Barker who, acting as his own shop-walker, was strolling up and down with great dignity. Mr. Barker came and she put the matter to him.

"Oh, no, sir; I'm afraid we couldn't think of it. Barker's is too old established a house to connive at these sharp modern ways of doing business," said Mr. Barker with a very impressive air.

The Terror looked at him with a cold thoughtful eye: "All right," he said. "You can put the stole down to me--Master Hyacinth Dangerfield, Colet House, Little Deeping."

He began to shovel the money back into the bag.

An expression of deep pain spread over the mobile face of Mr. Barker as the coins began to disappear; and he said quickly: "I'm afraid we can't do that, sir. Our terms are cash--strictly cash."

"Oh, no, they're not. My mother has had an account here for the last six years," said the Terror icily; and the last of the coins went into the bag.

Mr. Barker held out a quivering hand, and with an air and in a tone of warm geniality he cried: "Oh, that alters the case altogether! In the case of the son of an old customer like Mrs. Dangerfield we're delighted to deduct five per cent. discount for cash--delighted. Make out the bill for three pounds, Miss Perkins."

Miss Perkins made out the bill for three pounds; and Erebus bore away the stole tenderly.

As the triumphant Terror came out of the shop, he jingled the brave three shillings discount in his pocket and said: "Now for Springer's!"

CHAPTER VII

AND PRINGLE'S POND

Mrs. Dangerfield was indeed delighted with the stole, for she had an almost extravagant fondness for furs; and it was long since she had had any. She wondered how the Twins had saved and collected the money it had cost; she knew that it had not been drawn from the cats' home fund, since the Terror had promised her that none of that money should be diverted from its proper purpose; and she was the more grateful to them for the thought and labor they must have devoted to acquiring it. On the whole she thought it wiser not to inquire how the money had been raised.

The Twins, as always, enjoyed an exceedingly pleasant Christmas. It was the one week in the year when Little Deeping flung off its quietude and gently rollicked. There was a dearth of children, young men and maidens among their Little Deeping friends; and the Twins and Wiggins were in request as the lighter element in the Christmas gatherings.

Thanks to the Terror, the three of them took this brightening function with considerable seriousness: each of them learned by heart a humorous piece of literature, generally verse, for reciting; and they performed two charades in a very painstaking fashion. They had but little dramatic talent; but they derived a certain grave satisfaction from the discharge of this enlivening social duty; and their efforts were always well received.

It was, as usual, a green and muggy Christmas. The weather broke about the middle of January; and there came hard frosts and a heavy snow-storm. The Twins made a glorious forty-foot slide on the common in front of Colet House; and they constructed also an excellent toboggan on which they rushed down the hill into the village street.

These were but light pleasures. They watched the ponds with the most careful interest; eager, should they bear, not to miss an hour's skating. Wiggins shared their pleasures and their interest; and Mr.

Carrington, meeting the Terror on his way to his lessons at the vicarage, drew from him a promise that he would not let his ardent son take any risk whatever.

The ice thickened slowly on the ponds; then came another hard frost; and the Twins made up their minds that it must surely bear. They ate their breakfast in a great excitement; and as the Terror gathered together his books for his morning's work they made their plans.

He had strapped his books together; and as he caught up one of the two pairs of brightly polished skates that lay on the table, he said: "Then that's settled. I'll meet you at Pringle's pond as soon after half past twelve as I can get there; but you'd better not go on it before I come."

"Oh, it'll bear all right; it nearly bore yesterday," said Erebus impatiently.

"Well, Wiggins isn't to go on it before I come. You'll do as you like of course--as usual--and if you fall in, it'll be your own lookout.

But he's to wait till I come. If the ice does bear, it won't bear any too well; and I'm responsible for Wiggins. I promised Mr. Carrington to look after him," said the Terror in tones of stern gravity.

Erebus tossed her head and said in a somewhat rebellious tone: "As if I couldn't take care of him just as well as you. I'm as old as you."

"Perhaps," said the Terror doubtfully. "But you are a girl; there's no getting over it; and it does make a difference."

Erebus turned and scowled at him as he moved toward the door; and she scowled at the door after he had gone through it and shut it firmly behind him. She hated to be reminded that she was a girl. The reminder rankled at intervals during her lessons; and twice Mrs.

Dangerfield asked her what was distressing her that she scowled so fiercely.

At noon her lessons came to an end; and in less than three minutes she was ready to go skating. She set out briskly across the common, and found Wiggins waiting for her at his father's garden-gate. He joined her in a fine enthusiasm for the ice and talked of the certainty of its bearing with the most hopeful confidence. She displayed an equal confidence; and they took their brisk way across the white meadows.

More than usual Wiggins spurned the earth and advanced by leaps and bounds. His blue eyes were shining very brightly in the cold winter sunlight.

In ten minutes they came to Pringle's pond. The wind had swept the ice fairly clear of snow; and it looked smooth and very tempting. Also it looked quite thick and strong. Erebus stepped on to it gingerly, found that it bore her, and tested it with some care. She even jumped up and down on it. It cracked, but it did not break; and she told herself that ice always cracks, more or less. She set about putting on her skates; and the joyful Wiggins, all fear of disappointment allayed, followed her example.

When presently he stood upright in them ready to take the ice, she looked at him doubtfully, then tossed her head impatiently. No; she would not tell him that the Terror had charged her not to let him skate till he came. . . . She could look after him quite as well as the Terror. . . . She had tested the ice thoroughly. . . . It was perfectly safe.

Wiggins slid down the bank on to the ice; and she followed him. The ice cracked somewhat noisily at their weight, and at intervals it cracked again. Erebus paid no heed to its cracking beyond telling Wiggins not to go far from the edge. She skated round and across the pond several times, then settled down to make a figure of eight, resolved to have it scored deeply in the ice before the Terror came.

Wiggins skated about the pond.

She had been at work some time and had got so far with her figure of eight that it was already distinctly marked, when there was a crash and a shrill cry from Wiggins. She turned sharply to see the water welling up out of a dark triangular hole on the other side of the pond, where a row of pollard willows had screened the ice from the full keenness of the wind.

Wiggins was in that hole under the water.

She screamed and dashed toward it. She had nearly reached it when his head came up above the surface; and he clutched at the ice. Two more steps and a loud crack gave her pause. It flashed on her that if she went near it, she would merely widen the hole and be helpless in the water herself.

"Hold on! Hold on!" she cried as she stopped ten yards from the hole; and then she sent a shrill piercing scream from all her lungs ringing through the still winter air.

She screamed again and yet again. Wiggins' face rose above the edge of the ice; and he gasped and spluttered. Then she sank down gently, at full length, face downward on the ice, and squirmed slowly, spread out so as to distribute her weight over as wide a surface as possible, toward the hole. Half a minute's cautious squirming brought her hands to the edge of it; and with a sob of relief she grasped his wrists.

The ice bent under her weight, but it did not break. The icy water, welling out over it, began to drench her arms and chest.

Very gently she tried to draw Wiggins out over the ice; but she could not. She could get no grip on it with her toes to drag from.

Wiggins' little face, two feet from her own, was very white; and his teeth chattered.

She set her teeth and strove to find a hold for her slipping toes. She could not.

"C-c-can't you p-p-pull m-m-me out?" chattered Wiggins.

"No, not yet," she said hoa.r.s.ely. "But it's all right. The Terror will be here in a minute."

She raised her head as high as she could and screamed again.