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.
They walked briskly down to The Plough, the one inn of Little Deeping, where, as usual, Captain Baster was staying, and went in through the front door which stood open.

At the sound of their footsteps in her hall the stout but good-humored landlady came bustling out of the bar to learn what they wanted.
"Good afternoon, Mrs.Pittaway," said the Terror politely.

"We've come for Captain Baster's cigarette-case.